Christina
by judybear236
Summary: Fates meet and collide in an early winter blizzard in the Swiss Alps.
1. Chapter 1

**NA: Before we begin, I need to send out a huge THANK YOU to my Beta and friend, Filhound, for all of her technical support on this project. I'm afraid that without her input that this might have turned out to be a rather silly and stupid story with no basis in reality.**

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Christina Ch 1

(POV Erik)

It had been nearly a year, I thought as I rode through the darkness on Cesár – a black-clad phantom on a black steed in the black of night. How fitting, I thought, for the Devil's Angel, for a monster like me. At times I envied Nadir for his faith in his God, his Allah. He was a devout Muslim who prayed whenever he could. I knew no such God. My God had abandoned me at birth, even before that, showering me with the gifts of music and architecture and magic, and giving me mechanical insights, and intellect, while at the same time cursing me with a face that nobody – myself included – could stand to look at. What was the point of it all if I couldn't make use of it? I wanted to improve the world, make it better, easier, more beautiful. And I could do that, if only someone would let me. The Shah had been my one great hope and I had created beautiful things for him, but at what price? Was this what the world was like? So far in my life I had learned that people feared my visage and called me a child of the very devil. Maybe I was? People reviled me and abused me and locked me in a cage and put me on display for the amusement of others. And so I hid, traveling only by night and sleeping by day.

Nadir and I had traveled across the vast Ottoman Empire after escaping from Tehran and the shah, sometimes apart and sometimes together in companionable discussions or silence. Our journey had carried us across the plains and mountains, deserts and marshlands of Asia and Europe toward France, zigzagging from one place to another to avoid the likelihood of contact with gypsies or detection by agents of the shah. Now we had to skirt Prussia and eastern France to avoid a war that had broken out there over possession of two smaller districts, Alsace and Lorraine and so we turned south onto Switzerland's high plain. All along there were occasional lonely nighttime rides like this one, when Nadir would have to leave me to find a city or village where he could purchase supplies for us and I would be alone with my thoughts and memories. At times I would catch glimpses of places I recognized from my horrid childhood, places that stirred unwanted memories to surface, memories of my time with the gypsies – my childhood, if one could call it that, of being tortured and beaten and whipped, and exposed just for the sport of it. These men who took delight in abusing me because they deemed me to be less than human, a mullo, 'The Devil's Child' they called me, something not quite human, yet something human enough that they could torture and debase, but they felt not human enough for them to care about what the effect would have on me, no more than a child. Nadir could easily travel by day, perhaps posing as a silk merchant, but I would have to stick to traveling in the darkness. With my face and mask I would have been an easy target for law-enforcement or citizen vigilantes to set upon and drag me to the nearest gendarmerie or schupo magistrate, provided I even made it that far. What with rampant superstition in these rural parts, I would most likely be burned alive if I were to be captured.

Nadir had been a good companion to me of many different shades. Originally he had remarked on my innate ability to create architectural drawings and models without ever having been taught how. And then he had been amazed at my musical talent, what he had called 'genius', "Hah!" I thought, "he thinks me a genius when all I ever do is copy what I see, or hear, and maybe expand upon it or add to it, to make it more pleasing or more durable. If that's genius, so be it." It was the same with music as with architecture as with mechanical devices as with languages. Music had patterns, once you learned the patterns you could manipulate them, play with them to create your own unique patterns. All the world's great musicians have known that. Languages were also a series of patterns and sounds. Once a person understood how the sound fit together and a few of the meanings, the rest was easy. Mechanical things were something a little different, although they too were a series of patterns, but sometimes you could see what forces were needed to make a mechanism work and how those forces might be created. The only frustrating part of it was when those parts that you needed to make the connections were often not available and you had to make them yourself.

Now, the shah of Persia had been searching for artisans and musicians and architects throughout the then civilized world for the purpose of beautifying his capital so it would outshine all others in the world in splendor and ingenuity. Nadir saw something in me that he was certain would please the Shah and thought I might benefit by doing some work for him, maybe gain some renown on my own behalf, and induced me to come with him to Tehran. As young and unfamiliar with the ways of the world as I was, I'd had no idea that I was selling myself into slavery to the Shah. As the shah's guard it became Nadir's duty to keep me in line with the desires of the shah and the Khanum alike. This often meant entertaining them after a long day's work in the hot Persian sun. Sometimes the entertainment requested would be music, sometimes magic as I had learned a good deal of it while among the gypsies. On the darker side I had also learned the ways of the Punjab lasso while spending some time in India's Punjab region. The shah put that, along with my skills as an architect, to use in having me design and build torture and execution chambers beneath the new palace, directing me to devise more and more entertaining ways of disposing of his enemies. Little did I know or Nadir even suspect that the Khanum - the mother of the shah - would plant the seeds of jealousy in the young mind of the shah. Over the years, Nadir and I had developed a relationship of sorts that, while not exactly friendly, was at least amicable. It was fortunate that he had learned before I had finished building the palace of their plan to make sure that what had been created for the shah could not be duplicated elsewhere by disposing of its creator upon completion. Also by now I was sickened to see that those 'enemies' of the shah had grown to include children and women. I'd had my fill of killing so I convinced Nadir to help me plan an escape. And so, Nadir accompanied me by default, as his head was also in demand for his complicity in helping me to escape. Neither his close kinship to the shah nor his high rank as chief of the Shah's Imperial Police force carried any weight anymore. He had gone against the wishes and designs of the shah and the shah was out for his head as well as my own.

Not to say that Nadir was always companionable, nor I for that matter. We would often find some minor point to blow out of all proportions and argue it for days at a time until we would both see the folly of it and find some other point of contention. One of those points was often my mask. Since childhood I had worn this mask to cover my deformity from myself as well as others. My disfigurement branded me as inhuman, as a monster, a devil, as a thing unworthy of acceptance to the human race. Nadir would regularly bark at me for keeping the mask on for long periods of time, causing skin infections which he would treat with salves. I told him that that was preferable to being captured and put on display once again or burned alive by superstitious citizens. So far the weather had been surprisingly co-operative and we had only needed to take shelter a few times during our travels – well, once it was for a whole week. The nights had been pleasantly cool and comfortable for us, although now that we had almost reached France, the weather had turned sharply cooler with a cold, biting wind out of the north. Nadir had gone in search of a village from which to purchase supplies, though I strongly suspected he had other purposes in mind as well, as he often returned from these forays with a slight fragrance about him of flowery or spicy perfume. So I wrapped my black cape around myself more snugly as I turned Cesár free to graze for awhile in a field of mown and tedded lucerne hay. It wasn't possible to carry all the lucerne that the horses needed, so each evening we would turn the horses out at the field with the best looking prospects. While Cesár grazed, I wondered about Nadir, how he was faring, how far he had progressed. Nadir said he might have found a place for me to hide, not too far from where we were, just west of Genève. We had been making good time but now the land was again becoming more hilly. Hilly was good because it meant fewer encounters along the roadway.

But this morning I wanted to find shelter earlier than usual. The air had turned much colder and snow was in the air – unusual for this early in the season. And the woods were silent. No birds, no ground squirrels, no red foxes, sure signs of a coming storm. I saw a chimney peeking through the treetops in the distance in the predawn light, then a second one. I decided to head in that direction. I could see no smoke coming from either of them, suggesting that the place might have been abandoned, so I made my way toward the cottage. When I heard a rider coming I pulled Cesár off into some shrubbery. The traveler passed without noticing us, but when I urged Cesár back onto the roadway, he lurched and began to limp. I got down and looked – he had thrown a shoe – well partly. It was still hanging on by one nail. I managed to pull it off and we walked slowly toward the house. On closer inspection, the cottage was larger than I had supposed from my perch higher up on the hillside, but I still could see no signs of activity – two full stories and an attic, all under a steeply pitched roof, and tucked neatly into a hollow in the side of the hill, almost completely hidden from view from the road. There was a small stable attached to the house via a woodhouse in between, so I got Cesár settled before exploring further. As a precaution, I hung a large red scarf from a nail high above the entrance to the stable. Nadir and I each carried two scarves, one green and one red. We would hang them near where we stopped to make camp so if we'd gotten separated we would have an easier time finding each other - green for all's well, red for danger or trouble. If Nadir was searching he would see the scarf and know something was wrong and approach more cautiously. After all, he'd only gone into the village below, about six miles away.

Continuing my survey of the grounds, so to speak, for now they were covered in two feet of snow, there was a woodpile, apparently drying or curing. For lack of anything better, I moved the wood under cover of the roof overhang as the snow fell ever heavier, pleased to note as I carried it that the wood no longer smelled green. I located two water sources. One was a shallow well with tubs arranged inside containing butter and lard, all covered with straw and evergreen boughs against the freezing cold. The other was a series of stone steps descending to a spring. I dipped out some of the spring water with a jug sitting beside the steps, and tasted: it was cool and sweet. I covered it all up with evergreen boughs and a foot or more of straw but as the snowfall increased even more, along with the wind, I decided that I would likely need more water than that little jug could hold. There was a cask at the top of the stairs so I again opened the door and filled the cask to take back to the house. It was heavy, but I could manage. Working on building the shah's palace and occasionally helping the workers just for the sheer joy of the exercise, had filled out my form so I no longer looked like a weak little child that would invite others to prey upon me as they once had. I again covered up the entrance and headed back to the house, stopping at the stable to give Cesár some of the fresh water and some of the oats. I was pleased to see that a small barn filled with hay and straw and with an attached granary storing rye, wheat and oats stood just a few yards away. All of the outbuildings were within easy reach of the house should the storm worsen. On a whim, I managed to snare a rabbit and two grouse with my Punjab lasso before the snow became too much of an obstacle to movement. I felt bad about the little animals, caught out in this storm, but at least they died quickly and it was not a wanton killing but one of necessity.

Once inside, I found the house well stocked, as if the owners had just stepped out to visit someone and expected to return within a week or two. The kitchen larder was stocked with wheat and other staples. When I decided to store my meat in a cubby-hole near the peak of the roof, I found other stores there of cured meats and honey and sealed packages of seeds to plant in the spring. In a cellar I found apples, potatoes, Swedish turnips, onions and cheeses, and a barrel of salted fish. One small crock I found contained a bubbling mass of vile yet sweet smelling gooey stuff. It smelled oddly like baking bread, but not knowing what it was, I put it back where I'd found it. Other crocks contained pickles and choucroute, or what the Germans called 'sauerkraut'. I made a mental note to leave them a thank-you note and payment for the stores we would use while we were here. It was a relief to find edible foodstuffs here as we hadn't taken the time to stop and purchase any since arriving in the district. Our normal pattern had been to wait until a village was dark before slipping into a store selling whatever we needed, taking our supplies and leaving a note with gold or silver to pay for it, usually more than the goods were worth. But I had been loath to do that here, so close to my home country, even though it had never presented itself as a home for me. At other times, like this, Nadir would ride into a village to get what we might need. It was rare for us to find a vacant shelter already stocked like this one. As I explored the house and grounds I sang little snippets of songs I made up as I went along, sometimes even laughing at the foolishness of the words. My throat was scratchy from disuse and harsh winds, but I sang in French and it was good to hear my mother tongue once again. Farsi, the language of the shah, was a very beautiful language, but it wasn't my language. I'd heard nothing but Farsi for the past four years and hadn't realized how much I had longed to hear my native tongue. But now I would soon be back and I looked forward to hearing plenty of my native French once again!

Rather than wait any longer for Nadir, I made myself some bread of sorts with some flour I ground on a hand mill I found out in the barn and some of the lard and fried it. It was far from delectable, but it was satisfying, and I ate that with the last of the stale meat and cheese I had brought with me, then I went to the stable to see what sort of tools might be at hand so I could take care of Cesár's foot. I had noticed a forge just outside, but the weather wasn't going to allow me to build up enough heat to be of use just now, so I nailed the shoe back in place, cold, and hoped that it would hold. Taking a peek out the window, I could see snow falling in earnest yet – more than three feet had already fallen in the past hour. "Looks like we'll be staying here for awhile, eh Boy?" I said patting Cesár's flank. I found a curry comb and a brush on one of the stable's stone ledges and set about giving the horse a good brushing. As I did, my mind wandered back to our escape.

We had caused quite a commotion, one the shah was not likely to forget any time soon. I had designed the shah's palace and in the design I had included an underground passage from the royal apartments to the stables. I had attempted to explain this to both the shah and the Khanum, but I was careful to preface my descriptions with those of numerous other passages so that by the time I came to the one leading to the stables, they had both declared that they were tired of the endless details and to just get on with completing the palace and left, never knowing of this means of access. Nadir and I had used that route to get to the shah's prized stallions and mares, despite Nadir trying to find more excuses not to enter the tunnel than the shah had concubines. In the process we had also come upon a cache of gunpowder left by the construction crew. "We could use this, Doostam," said Nadir. "We could bring down the tunnel so they won't be able to reach us."

"We don't have time for that, Daroga, but how good are you with that bow you carry?" I did have other reasons for not wanting to blow it up – I knew that some of the shah's dogs and cats slept in the tunnel and I didn't feel right in harming such innocent and faithful creatures , even though their loyalty was misplaced.

Nadir notched up an arrow and spun around and released, pinning the ties of a feed bag that was hanging from a rack on the far end of the stables to the wall. "Will that do?" he asked me with a bit of a cocky smirk.

"Just so long as you can repeat it!" I told him."Help me make some pouches for this gunpowder." We tore up some fabric we had found, in addition to our own shirts. On each piece we placed a bit of the gunpowder, then tied each scrap into a knot, enclosing the gunpowder. I grabbed a couple of empty feed bags and filled them with these little pouches. As we worked, I explained my plan to blow up the gates to the city, releasing the shah's political prisoners who were itching to revolt.

"The shah is not going to like you very much after this."

I looked at him with a little mischief in my eyes, "I built it. I can blow it up if I want to!"

"Hahaha!" Nadir laughed, "I doubt the shah will see it that way!"

The jail was just inside of the gates to the city. I figured if we could blow up those gates, the old walls in that part of the city (which the shah refused to believe could be breached) would come down, and all the political prisoners of the shah would be free. We would bring them horses and weapons so they could fight the shah's guards. In the ensuing mayhem, we could make our escape – we hoped. Nadir took as many arrows as he could carry in the three quivers he'd located, each arrow wrapped with a bit of raw wool near the tip, and a torch. I carried the bags of the little packets. We loaded the horses of the herd with weapons from the armory and drove them toward the city gates. As we drew near, I began tossing the packets high into the air. Nadir would light one of the arrows and let fly. The impact of the flaming arrow against the gunpowder caused each packet to explode in the night sky, sending the guards at the gates scrambling in frightened confusion. Then I threw one of the feedbags with the last of the packets inside it to land at the base of the gates. When Nadir went to fire an arrow at it, he discovered he was out of arrows.

"Out of arrows? What do you mean you're out of arrows?"

"I don't have any left! I used the last one!"

"Well you should have saved one!" (This discussion being held as the horses reared and wheeled in the commotion of the rest of the herd moving about and calling in agitation and the palace guards firing arrows at us.)

"Now what?"

I handed him some of the wool lining from my cloak, "Here, try this! Wrap it around the tip of your bow!"

"My bow?! You want me to throw away my bow?!"

"YES!" So he grudgingly lit the end of the bow and threw it javelin style at the pouch and it exploded, knocking the gates off their hinges. We slashed the bindings holding the weapons to the backs of the horses and as the prisoners rushed out they were able to grab weapons with which to defend themselves against the shah's guards. Many of the guards, seeing that the balance of power had changed, joined the prisoners in the revolt and in the ensuing bedlam, we raced off to freedom. We were still laughing when we pulled up to rest the horses twenty miles away.

Nadir looked at me with a conspiratorial grin, "We have taken more than just the shah's power," he said, stroking his horse. "We have taken his prized herd. The horse you ride is the scion of the sire of the herd, Cesár. The one I ride is the brood mare that was most recently bred with his sire. Between these two I will have a herd that will rival that of the shah!"

"Doostam!... always thinking ahead! If I ever had a brother I would wish for him to be just like you."

"That is propitious because you now owe me a bow – an exquisite, balanced bow covered in the fine skin of a shark," Nadir had told me with a smirk.

"A shark? Why would a bow be covered with such a substance?"

Patiently, Nadir had explained the making of a fine Persian bow with its many layers and parts and a final covering of fine shark skin to protect the many layers and glues from moisture.

"An interesting challenge, Daroga. If you can secure the shark, I will make you such a bow," I had told him with a smirk. That had been the first time I had ever heard Nadir joyously laugh out loud at something I had said.

We had decided to head for Genève where Nadir would find a place for us to stay… but we hadn't counted on a winter storm so early in the season. I chuckled as I finished grooming Cesár, "Soon you will be reunited with your partner!" I gave him an extra helping of oats and hay, some fresh water and made my way back to the house, stopping momentarily first in the woodhouse to get an armload of wood, then in the kitchen to get the fixings to make a cup of tea. No sense firing up the stove in the kitchen when I'd already got a perfectly good fire going in the parlor hearth! So I set about heating some water in a small pan I'd brought from the kitchen and made myself some tea. I had originally planned to hide myself in the barn, using the warmth of the hay to fend off the cold, because a monster such as I did not deserve such fine accommodations as an actual house where normal people lived, but after discovering the house to be completely empty and with no prospects of the owners returning any time soon, I decided to occupy the house, pretend for once that I was a lord of the manor. So I closed off all the rooms in the house except the main parlor and a small bedroom to the side of it. That's all we would need to use, so that's all we needed to keep heated. I finally settled with my feet up on the sofa in the parlor with a duvet I'd scavenged from one of the bedrooms and picked up the book I'd been reading as we'd traveled, "Around the World in Eighty Days" by Jules Verne. The deepening snow rendered the world silent, and the silence suited me perfectly. The only sound was that of the wind howling around the house and the crackling of the fire in the huge hearth. One of my last clear thoughts before drifting off to sleep was of Nadir, wondering where he was and hoping his Allah would keep him safe.

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	2. Chapter 2

Christina Ch 2

Erik started and reached for his mask all but falling off the sofa in the process, what with it being too short for his long legs. He could see that it was still a little bit light and that the fire had died down, leaving a definite chill in the room. Something had awakened him. He slipped his boots back on and found his cloak, gloves and hat, and then remembered the book and grabbed it, and moved into the shadows. Soon a lone figure entered the room stealthily, examining every nook and cranny of the room. In the dim light given off by the dying fire, Erik could see the man's dark, swarthy features and broken teeth. Judging by the way he reeked, he hadn't bathed in months ('_Well, it's been a good week since I did either!', he thought. 'I hope I don't smell that bad!')_ Erik was ready to challenge him when another voice called out, asking, "You OK? Whatcha find?" The voice was a rough whisper, but the language was one he had hoped never to hear again – Romani, the language of the gypsies. So there were at least two…

"Someone's been here. There's what's left of a fire and a blanket in here. Fire's recent so it hasn't been too long ago!"

Erik stealthily made his way into the bedroom and silently closed the door. He needed to think of something quick! With his superb vision in the dim late evening light, he could make out a walking cane, bedroom slippers and a robe. He quietly changed into a night shirt he found in an armoire, slipped into the robe and slippers. He was just reaching for the cane when the door flew open. _'Time to put on an act!' he thought. _ He looked up unsteadily, "Who are you? What do you want here?" and came toward the intruder, leaning over heavily on the cane, speaking in Farsi. Erik figured that Farsi would be the least likely language that they would know. It was either Farsi or English.

"Haha! Constantino! I have a live one for you!" he called over his shoulder. "I'm guessing he's around 65 or more?" He turned back to Erik and asked him, in Romani, "Who are you? Non comprendo?"

Erik looked at him confused and asked again in Farsi, "What do you want with us? Get off with you! Go away!" and took steps toward the intruder, brandishing his cane and backing him out into the parlor.

The intruder laughed, "Whoa there!..Parle vous?" he asked, easily defending himself with his arms.

"Sprechen sie? Tu Parle l'italiano? Vy ga-voriti po russki?"

"Motavajjeh nemisham! Get out of my house!" Erik began to shout and started tottering toward the gypsy, waving his cane.

"Try English!" called the other from the entry hall.

"Give me that thing, old man!" The man grabbed Erik's cane to prevent being hit with it and asked him, "You speak the English?"

Erik looked at him dumbly, teetering uneasily until he was able to grab hold of a chair. "Darius!" he called, "Nadir!" _(Wouldn't it be nice if they were actually within earshot? he thought.)_

The intruder froze, looking around the room, until he realized that the old man was bluffing and no help would be forthcoming. He pushed the old man down into a chair, noticing a cloth wrapped around part of Erik's face. When he reached for it, Erik fended off his hand and winced as if he were in pain.

"What happened?" the intruder asked gesturing toward his face.

Erik pointed to the pot of water on the hearth, "Water…a-be garm!" and made the gesture of it splashing his face. "Abe garm!"

The intruder was about to reach for the cloth again when another man entered the room, half dragging two people dressed in elegant attire. They were both very fine looking and apparently aristocrats. "Let go of me!" the man spat out in French, appearing quite indignant and straightening his coat and jacket before reaching out for his companion. "And release her! I demand that you release us this moment, or you will pay with your life when my father finds you!"

Both men were now laughing at this uppity young peacock trying to intimidate them with idle threats. But Erik was paying more attention to his companion, an auburn-haired beauty who was far more composed than her companion_. He appeared to be her younger brother, although their speech patterns were different. A traveling companion perhaps? But surely not a single woman traveling with an unattached male, and they were not married or espoused because she wore no ring, nor did he … a curiosity for sure._ Erik pulled his eyes away from her and had a hard time disguising his revulsion when he saw the third member of the new arrivals. Javert! The very pig who had tortured him as a child in the gypsy camp. The very man who had raped him as a child, who had beat him, whipped him and humiliated him and put him on display for paying customers to mock and spit at: the man he thought he had killed all those years ago. Of all the people for him to run into now! At first sight of Javert he was filled with the same terror he'd felt as a child. That quickly passed into bitter anger at what Javert had done to him, but this finally turned to disgust as Erik realized that this creature was just a piggish bully who needed to be put in his place – in time. He worked hard to control his emotions so as not to give himself away.

The French dandy took a step forward as if to challenge the gypsies, but his companion held his arm, pulling him back, saying, "No Raoul. Not now. Let us see what they want." Her pronunciation was a bit skewed… was that Swedish he detected?

He stood and approached her, saying, "Goddag, Fröken. kärkommen förödmjuka hemåt." And reached out and brushed his lips across the back of her hand with a slight bow, the way he'd seen other men do.

The man she called 'Raoul' stepped forward as if to intervene but was restrained by Javert. "Hey! Let go of her! That's my fiancé!"

The woman looked in surprise at the old man. It had been a long time since anyone had spoken to her in Swedish. Well, other than her aunt who had accompanied them until these gypsies had left her tied up in that villa along with Raoul's man from England two days ago. She looked up and answered, "Tak fur det. Du tala svensk?"

Erik bowed slightly, ". Lite. Var försiktig av dessa män, dem är farligt." He told her with a welcoming smile.

She smiled so brightly he all but lost himself in her huge brown eyes before the gypsy named Constantino jerked him back to the chair. "Alright! Enough of that!"

"How dare you touch my fiancé! I ought to challenge you to satisfaction!" Erik ignored him, hiding his amusement at the antics of this foppish nobleman. He seemed to be no more than a boy pretending to be a man. How could she be his fiancé? What could she possibly see in him? Was she marrying him for his money? Why was it that some people placed so much importance on wealth? _Come to think of it, I had also done so when I allowed Nadir to take me into Persia. 'All the wealth and prestige you can bear!' Nadir had told me. So I became a paid slave. And the difference between that and marrying for money was what?_

"Hey! You! You got anything to eat in this place?" The question brought him back to the present and he looked up with a blank expression and shrugged his shoulders while shaking his head. "Motavajjeh nemisham."

One of the gypsies shook Erik by the shoulder and gestured that he wanted to eat. Erik smiled dumbly and got up, gesturing for the gypsy to follow him. He led him up the stairs to the second floor and to a trap door in the ceiling. "Up there? You want me to go up there?" asked the man, pointing up at the trap door. He didn't look very happy about climbing up to that door in the ceiling.

"Balé! Balé!" Erik answered pointing to a wobbly ladder leaning up against the wall. Erik had used a different ladder to climb up there, but had stored it behind a curtain so as to make it not so obvious that something of value was up there.

"You can't expect me to climb that thing?" He asked, taking hold of the ladder and shaking it gingerly.

"Balé! Balé!" Erik repeated, making a gesture of eating food.

The man carried the ladder over to the trap door and leaned it against the door frame, then timorously climbed up the ladder, one cautious step at a time. With each step, Erik watched the rickety old ladder, noting its weak points, wondering if the gypsy would even reach the trap door. Once there, the man gave the trap door a push and it flipped back into the space, but at the same time, the force he had exerted caused the ladder to collapse beneath his feet – with a little help from Erik pushing against the weakest points – and the man came crashing down. He tried to stand but Erik expertly snapped his neck with a blow that would leave no mark - and he pitched down the stairs to the main floor landing. The angle of his neck made it clear that he was dead. Erik acted horrified and sorrowful at the man's demise. Constantino came running, shouting, bending over the body of his companion, "What's going on here? What happened?"

Erik again gestured as if eating while pointing up to the open trap door to the attic. He picked up the pieces of the broken ladder and shrugged his shoulders.

"Crazy fool! Couldn't he see that this old ladder wouldn't support him? What's so urgent that he had to climb up there?" He looked at Erik who only nodded and grinned. "Is there food up there?" and he made a motion as if he were eating.

Erik nodded, saying, "Balé! Balé!" and pointed up toward the trap door.

He then tapped Constantino on the arm and showed him where the other ladder was concealed behind a curtain. Constantino picked up the ladder and tested it for soundness and determined it to be sturdy. When he positioned it under the open trap door, Erik gave him a big grin and nodded, "Balé! Balé!" (He was thinking how stupid these guys were to not check the soundness of the ladder before climbing on it!)

Constantino went up the ladder and Erik could hear him exclaim over finding such a treasure. He began throwing chunks of cured meats and the two grouse Erik had killed down to him. "Woo-hoo! Looks like we eat tonight!"

Erik continued to smile and nod his head, all the while thinking, _If they devour all of this in one night, we will go hungry if we are trapped here for very long… Christina!_ He hurried down the steps, holding onto the handrail, while Constantino called from behind, "Hey! Where you going? Get back here and help me carry this stuff!"

Erik ignored him and doddered over to where Christina was sitting with Raoul. She seemed to be trying to ignore him while he prattled on about how wealthy his family was and how many castles and estates they owned, and so on.

"What do you want now, you old fool?" Raoul asked him. "Can't you see we're having a private conversation here?"

Erik paused a moment, thinking,_ "Who's the fool here? If you knew who I was you wouldn't dare speak to me like that. I could dispatch you before you knew what was happening, but since the lady seems to care for you, I won't."_

In his halting Swedish he explained that they needed to save some of the food for the coming week.

"Oh, what does he want now?" and he gave Erik a shove, causing Erik to take a step back. Erik tensed and his eyes flashed but only Christine noticed. "Go away! Leave us alone."

"Raoul, wait. This is important. And it is his home, after all."

"That may be but it's our prison for the time being – his too, for that matter - until we can find a way out of this God-forsaken place!"

Christine had been watching Erik's eyes as he took in the discussion between herself and Raoul and thought, _He knows what we're saying! He pretends not to, but he understands. Wonder what else he knows? He pretends to be simple-minded, but I can see the intelligence in his eyes, and he only speaks that odd language and some Swedish. What sort of connection would there be between Swedish and that language that the gypsies cannot understand? And why that cloth wrapped around his face? I need to speak with him – alone. Raoul may not care who this man is, but I do._

"I'm sorry, what were you saying again?" she asked Erik.

Erik told her that the gypsies had found his food cache and were planning on having a feast tonight, but they needed to conserve some of the foodstuffs. They had no idea how long they would be there and needed to ration their supplies.

The gypsies grabbed Raoul and pushed and prodded him up to the landing to help carry the food downstairs while Christina interpreted Erik's message to Javert and Constantino. While they were distracted, Erik went back up the stairs and busied himself stuffing the dumbwaiter with the bundles of meat.

"O.K." said Javert. "We take one of those bundles each night and make stew. Are there fixings for stew?"

"We found some stuff in the cellar that might work," said Constantino. ''

"Is there a way to get there from here?" asked Javert.

Christina asked Erik and he nodded, smiling "Balé! Balé!"

Javert looked around for the bundles of meat that had apparently disappeared. "Where'd they all go?"

Erik thought, "_Javert would make an easy target for some of my sleight-of-hand tricks!" _And he tucked away the thought for future consideration.

"It's all in the dumbwaiter basket to take it downstairs," explained Christina. " We can take what we'll use for tonight and send the rest to the basement, then load up the vegetables we need from down there and send them up to the kitchen. "

As she started toward the stairs, Javert pulled her toward him, "She's a smart one, this one is. How did someone like you get hooked up with someone as useless as he is, eh?"

Raoul had been watching from the sidelines becoming more and more agitated as things progressed. "That's enough, Christina. Don't you think you have helped them enough? Let them sort out how they are to eat. It's none of our business and I don't want my future wife getting involved with aiding these filthy animals!"

Javert let go of Christina and turned on him, "Filthy?! My dear …" (he snorted) "… gentleman … if we had toiletries and bathing facilities at our disposal, perhaps we could perfume ourselves much as you do, but the wilderness in which we are forced to make our home affords no such niceties. Now, if you would like to experience our lifestyle for awhile, feel free to share the stable with the horses and the chickens!" With that he shoved a sack of nuts that had been curing in the attic at Raoul. "Here. Take those down to the kitchen," and pushed him toward the stairs ahead of him.

Erik had to turn and busy himself with tugging at the ropes to lower the dumbwaiter in order to keep from laughing out loud at Raoul's indignant expression.

Christina started down the steps, heading for the cellar door. "I'd like to see what's in the cellar," announced Christina. "If we're going to be stuck here for awhile, I'd like to know what we have to work with for meals."

"Christina! How can you debase yourself in this way? You are soon to be the wife of a nobleman, a Vicomtesse! A Vicomtesse does not act like this!" Javert was about to shut him up when Christina intervened.

She had had enough of Raoul's contrary behavior. She had hoped that he would see that co-operating would help things to run more smoothly. Instead Raoul seemed intent on getting them tied up and gagged for the duration. "Raoul, even a Vicomtesse will do whatever is needed to keep herself and her loved ones alive – as you should also!"

"Go get some wood," Javert commanded.

Raoul looked around the room from the easy chair he had occupied, looking at each person – they were all looking at him, some rather smugly. As the reality of the request dawned on him, "ME? You expect ME to carry wood?"

Javert made a move toward him threateningly, "Yes I do! And I expect you to haul in enough water for baths!"

Raoul leaned back with a thin chuckle and crossed his legs, "You've lost your mind! Let the old man do it… it's his house!"

Christina was on her way down the cellar stairs and turned around to face her fiancé, "Oh, for pity's sake, Raoul, grow up! These are things that we all need. It's only fair that you do your share of the work and help us!"

Javert reached out and took Raoul by the sleeve, dragging him toward the kitchen and the woodhouse door. "NOW!"

"I'll have you know that my family can trace its lineage back to Charlemagne in the 8th century," Raoul postulated, straightening his coat. "In fact, Mother has told me that the name 'Chagny' is a shortened form of the name Charlemagne."

And Erik thought to himself, _And I can trace mine back to Eirik den Rod in the tenth century. So what? Rulers and nobles back then had many illegitimate offspring. And there was much inbreeding among the nobility, giving rise to all sorts of aberrations, such as cowardice. _

"And what have you done since then but to live off the backs of the people you are supposed to be taking care of? It's time you started earning your keep!" said Javert threatening him.

Erik had come down from the second floor and opened the dumbwaiter's doors in the kitchen. He looked at Christina and shook his head, telling her in Swedish, "Such beautiful clothing! Wouldn't you like something more befitting the work you will be doing? It would be a shame to spoil such costly attire."

She looked down at her pale blue satiny dress and answered, "That would be so kind of you, Sir! Yes I would! And could you find some for Raoul as well?"

Erik nodded, "Balé, I will see. Maybe he can use some of my own things?"

Javert turned around and glared at Erik and then Christina. _Something about that old man kept niggling at him, but he didn't know what. Maybe it was just the idea of being trapped here._"What's this? What are you two talking about now?"

"The gentleman just offered to find some more appropriate attire for myself and my fiancé," Christina told Constantino.

"WHAT?" Raoul exploded and turned back from the woodhouse door he was about to open. "I will certainly NOT wear someone else's cast-off clothing! This suit was tailored by Henry Poole of London! I refuse to wear anything of lesser craftsmanship!"

"Suit yourself then. Mademoiselle, you can tell the old man to go ahead and find you some simpler clothing to wear."

She told Erik and was surprised when he pulled her along toward the upstairs bedrooms. They stopped on the stairs and he told her, in Swedish of course, "I need to see what size you wear, see which ones will fit you best." When she hesitated, he added, "You do not fear for your virtue with an old codger like me, I hope?"

She looked at him, with a bit of a question in her eyes before shaking her head, "No, of course not," and continued to follow him up the stairs, wondering to herself_, "What is it about this man? Why am I drawn to him? I am engaged to be wed to the only son of the Comte de Chagny! I should only have eyes for him – I HAVE only had eyes for him since my childhood. I need to get a tighter hold on my feelings. I am no longer a child who can allow her feelings to run willy-nilly for the first man to do a simple kindness for me. What would father think? Yet this man is educated beyond even Raoul. He speaks at least French, Swedish, English, the language of the gypsies and whatever language it is that he is using. He is very brave to be defying both the gypsies and in a more subtle way, Raoul. Yet this doesn't seem to be his own home, so he is at best a traveler, perhaps a vagabond as well, maybe even a secret gendarme searching for outlaws like the men who are holding us? Perhaps he is a nobleman who simply got lost in the storm? I need to ask him some questions…. but will he answer them?"_

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TRANSLATIONS:

_Parle vous – Do you speak French? (in French)_

"_Sprechen sie?" – Do you speak German (in German)_

_Tu Parle l'italiano – Do you speak Italian? (in Italian)_

_Vy ga-voriti po russki – Do you speak Russian (in Russian)_

_Motavajjeh nemisham – I don't understand you (in Farsi)_

_a-be garm – hot water (in Farsi)_

"_Goddag, Fr__öken. __kärkommen__förödmjuka__hemåt__." Hello, young lady, Welcome to my humble home.(in Swedish)_

"_Tak fur det. Du tala svensk?" Thank you. You speak Swedish? (in Swedish)_

"Lite_.__Var__försiktig__av__dessa__män__,__dem__är__farligt – A little bit. Be very careful of these men, They are dangerous (in Swedish)_

_Motavajjeh nemisham." – I don't understand you (in Farsi)_

_Balé – Yes (in Farsi)_

_Read and review, if you like!_


	3. Chapter 3

Christina, …. Ch 3

Erik quickly located a bedroom with some women's clothing in it and searched for something for Christina to wear."Pardon me for asking, but how have you come to be engaged to that fop downstairs? It is all too obvious that he is no match for your intelligence , compassion and energies. He's a fashion pate too full of himself to care about his own survival, much less yours."

She looked at him, stunned, "Your voice sounds different… and what became of your limp?"

She was suspicious of him and close to discovering his identity. _Would it be better to let her in on whom and what he was and trust that she could keep his secret? Or should he continue with the charade and hope that her natural inquisitiveness and intelligence wouldn't cause her to share her suspicions with Raoul, whom he definitely could not trust?_

Erik looked out the window before turning back to her, "Will any of those fit you? Feel free to use anything else you need from here; I will replace whatever you need to take with you."

They looked at each other and she wondered why she had not noticed how clear and deep aqua his eyes were, certainly not those of a doddering old man.

Erik couldn't look away from her intelligent brown eyes that looked so sad. She was being thrown to the dogs to marry that ingratiating fool downstairs.

"Who are you?" she asked quietly, hesitantly. "You don't seem to be an old man. I don't believe you even live here. There are many little things you don't seem to know about this house, like operating the stove in the kitchen. Who are you?" she scoffed, "You're not just another brigand taking shelter from the storm, I hope? You understand what we and the gypsies are saying,"

He turned to her sharply, examining her eyes,_ those beautiful deep, brown pools…_ searching for any sign of intrigue or duplicity. _Stop it, Erik! You have no right to dream of a woman like her – no right to dream of any woman. No woman would even look twice at a monster like you! _He shifted his gaze to study the patterns of the rug on the floor.

"What is the language you speak and how is that connected to Swedish?"

"I speak the language of the shah of Iran – what you call Persia – whom I served for four years until making my escape scarcely a year ago."

"You were a servant of the shah? You don't act like a servant."

"There are many kinds of servants. I served the shah as his chief architect, his court magician…" here he hesitated. _ Would this be too much for her?_ "and as his personal assassin."

She looked aghast at him, but then he could see she had more questions, so he continued, "The man downstairs known as Javert I tried to kill many years ago when I was just a child. He had captured me and put me on display, naked and with no covering on my face, to show to paying customers who would throw things at me and spit at me. Afterward, or even sometimes as part of the show, he would beat me and do more that I cannot in good conscience convey to you. This is why I have disguised myself. If he were to learn of my identity he would try to kill me on the spot. This would likely turn into a general blood bath for all of us, because as the shah's assassin I have learned many ways to kill efficiently and will not hesitate to use them in self defense. So I bide my time, and take action where and when I can until you and your Vicomte are out of his control."

He turned and could see that he had shocked her, but one question remained. "And why is it that you were so valuable to show to others for pay?"

He 'd known that question was coming, yet hearing it made him shudder inside for he was loath to let her see his horrid face. "I have had a deformity, since birth, that I keep covered so as not to alarm decent folk like yourself."

Erik shifted his gaze to the window again, saying, "You must tell no-one of any of this. Not even Raoul. Allow me to deal with these men as I am able." He took a deep breath and let it out. It was good to have someone here that he could talk to, someone he could trust, and somehow he felt that he could trust this woman. He looked up and she was just standing there, looking at him, her lips parted as if about to ask a question. She was so endearing. He had to turn away."It will be morning soon, yet the snow has not stopped. We will most certainly be here for a week or more. Take whatever you need. I am a wealthy man and can pay the owners of this house for whatever we need to use. There is a small bedroom just off the parlor you can use so you can have some privacy. It shares a wall with the chimney so it will be warmer than the others. I will make sure that you are not disturbed there."

She nodded and stepped behind a changing screen to try on one of the dresses. "When our mothers were young, they met while attending a finishing school in Switzerland and became fast friends, so fast that they pledged their first born son & daughter to each other. We were introduced at my coming out ball in Paris, three years ago. Since then we have been groomed to marry when I reached the age of 17 years and he was out of his basic army service. We were on our way to Arles to plan our wedding when we were set upon by these brigands."

Erik looked at her, questioningly, wondering how she could have fallen for this fop. As if she could read his thoughts, she continued, "He was so charming and elegant, and his manners were impeccable. He said and did all the right things and his attention was all for me! I fell for the pomp and show of it all. He was wealthy, he was a Vicomte, eventually to become a Comte. It was all so romantic!"

She came out from behind the screen looking charming and so innocent in a plain white blouse with a vest buttoned down the front and a woolen skirt woven in a plaid pattern.

"And now?" he asked hesitantly, his voice thick with restrained passion.

She took a shawl from the pile of clothing they had selected and wrapped it around her shoulders, tucking the ends into her waist band. "Now…? I'm not as sure anymore. He seems so … indecisive, expecting to be waited upon at every turn. He's not the same person he was back then. He's grown haughty."

A voice called up from below, "What's taking so long? Get back down here!"

Before they left he took a small hand mirror out of a drawer and slipped it into his pocket.

Erik found himself thinking more and more about this Swedish bride and how the dandy Vicomte was no match for her. For that matter it didn't seem that any of them were, not even Javert. She had put Raoul in his place like a mother with an impetuous child. She had thwarted Javert several times and had taken over the running of the house, leaving him more freedom to explore the house and barns under the guise of fetching things for their meals. They worked well together, understood what the other needed or was intending, almost knew ahead of time what they were going to do. And yet was she not just another way for this God of his to torment his misbegotten creature? Surely, if she knew what he looked like she would run away screaming for her beautiful Raoul.

That first night, after Erik had emphasized that the small bedroom off the parlor was to be set aside for the woman, there was a general uproar. Each of the gypsies had wanted that room for themselves and even Raoul protested that they needed a larger room for the two of them.

"Fool!" shouted Javert. "You are not yet wed. You have no right to demand a room with the woman!"

"She is pledged to me and I am determined to protect her virtue!"

"You? You will protect her from all of us?" Javert asked, strutting around the room and stepping close enough to Raoul to elbow him back into a chair. "What will you do to me if I maybe touch her?" he asked, reaching out to fondle her. She swatted his hand away and turned to go into the kitchen but he grabbed her wrist and yanked her back.

"Which of these smoked meats shall we use for our dinner?" asked Erik from the kitchen, holding up two of the packages from the attic and throwing one of them at Javert.

He let go of Christina to catch the package. She looked into Javert's eyes with hatred and determination. "I have to go," and pulled away from him and came to the kitchen.

"What does he want now?" asked Javert through his teeth, hefting the chunk of wrapped meat.

"He wants to know which of these meats you want us to fix for dinner tomorrow."

He threw the meat back at Erik, giving him a hard look. Erik averted his eyes. He was playing a very dangerous game. If Javert ever saw his eyes, he would likely recognize him and try to kill him on the spot. "I don't care. Just make it good!"

Erik looked at Christina who translated and then bobbed his head, saying, "Balé, balé…" and turned away to begin cutting up some vegetables.

That first night, once everyone had gone to bed, Erik took a heavy blanket and rolled up in it and slept crosswise in front of her bedroom door. During the night Erik heard footsteps approaching and waited until they were close enough before grabbing an ankle and upending the unwary visitor. He lithely looped his arm around the unsuspecting intruder's neck, disabling him. "I wouldn't advise it, my friend," he said in Romani, and tightened his lock on the man's neck. "One word and I snap your neck, understood?"

He made an effort to answer "yes"

"Good. Go back to your bed. This was just a bad dream." The man again nodded "yes" before Erik released him and shoved him away. He watched the man stagger away before curling up once more in his blanket. Not long afterward he heard the door open and heard a small gasp from Christina. After a few moments he felt the weight and warmth of a down duvet settling lightly over him before the door clicked shut. He smiled, grateful for its warmth and for her concern for him. The next morning he folded the duvet and left it alongside her door before starting the morning fires.

Later at breakfast, Erik could hear bits of a conversation between one of the other gypsies and Constantino. Constantino was laughing and saying, "You were dreaming, Paolo! That old man couldn't take you on!"

"But he spoke to me in our language!" protested Paolo. "He told me to go away, that I was just dreaming!"

"And so you were. Sit down and eat your breakfast!" Constantino gave Erik a curious look before grabbing a slice of ham, a stack of pancakes, some eggs and a mug of coffee. He sat next to Paolo and told him, "I will go tonight and see what the old man is capable of!"

Erik looked up and smiled, nodding his head and squinting, "Is good?" he asked in terrible French. When Constantino called for more coffee, Erik yielded the pot to one of the other gypsies, Joey, to carry it in, but somehow he tripped on the carpeting, spilling the contents in Constantino's lap. Constantino jumped up, yelping in pain and tried to take a swing at Joey who had bent to pick up the coffee pot and hit Paolo instead. He was still trying to regain his balance when Erik, after inconspicuously straightening the rug, took hold of his arms and escorted him toward the nearest door, "Snö!" And all along, Joey kept apologizing to Constantino while searching the floor to see what it was he had tripped over.

Constantino began fighting with Erik, but Erik kept yelling "Snö" at him until Christina told him that Erik was saying "Snow" and that he needed to get snow on it to stop the burning. Constantino finally relented and allowed Erik to help him outside where he immersed himself in snow. Meanwhile Christina warmed up some of the lard and gave it to him to use on the burn when he couldn't stand the cold anymore.

And so, Erik would have an easy night after all.

As the days passed, Erik could see that Christina was a wonderful woman. She had an easy grace about her, nothing arrogant or put on. And she was intelligent. Far more intelligent than either Raoul or Javert. The way she organized the kitchen and the meals was a thing of beauty, turning out meat stews made with wine and fish stews and potato casseroles. She even used that smelly stuff he had found in the cellar to make the most wonderful breads!

From the meager stores they had been able to locate, she managed to keep everyone full and happy.

Raoul was given the task of caring for the horses, at which he was actually quite good. He seemed to enjoy being with them and away from men who thought him to be a weakling – men who could see that he was a weakling. But Raoul didn't consider himself in that way by any means. He was a noble, of noble birth. The nobility had a God-given right to the goods and obeisance of the lower classes. He was within his rights to expect not to have to wait on these scum of the earth, or even this peasant they had encountered. He had half a mind to take one of the horses and head out for Arles. It couldn't be that hard to ride through the soft snow. In fact, he could take two of the horses, in case one grew tired. The entire country couldn't be blanketed in snow! All he had to do was to get to the edge of the snow and it would be easy going. Then he could return with troops to rescue Christine! He would be a hero!

They'd been trapped in that cottage for almost a week when two of the gypsy men told Javert that they were going to try to get to the village on the other side of the river at the bottom of the hill. It seemed they thought they had seen someone out on one of the hills on the other side of the river and they were curious as to how he'd gotten there. In reality, they'd become desperate to see if there was a way out of this place. The sun was out and the slopes were warming up. It had finally stopped snowing and seemed like a pleasant day to go exploring. Christina warned them about the snow and the danger of combining fresh snow and warm temperatures, but they would not listen. They made themselves some crude snowshoes and headed out to explore. Their plan was to follow the stream uphill until they found a place narrow enough to cross it safely. Around 3 PM they all heard what sounded like thunder. They ran to the windows to look out, but the sky was puzzlingly clear. Christina was the first to see it and pointed to the cloud of white on the mountainside across the river. Erik had no idea what she was pointing at until she shouted. "Lavin!" she said pointing to the white cloud that seemed to be picking up speed as it raced down the mountainside, heading straight for the two men. The others began shouting at them to get out of the way, to go sideways to the rush of snow, but it was too late and they watched as the snow engulfed them.

"Bahman," Erik said shaking his head, but then he noticed a speck of movement up above where the avalanche had started. Someone was up there, watching. Was it possible that person had started the avalanche deliberately? Why? What purpose would there be in deliberately causing an avalanche? As they watched, the rushing river of snow roared down the valley, taking trees and small summer chalets with it, pushing everything into an onrushing, crashing mess and sweeping past the bridge below them. It paused for a few minutes at the bridge before the weight of the snow and the force building up behind it tore away the bridge and carried it along further down the valley, splintering it as it went and coming to rest just short of the village. The black speck was still where he'd seen it and it seemed to be sparkling… no! It was semaphore! Nadir!

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Translation: "Bahman" = 'avalanche' in Farsi

Read and review, if you like!


	4. Chapter 4

Christina Ch 4

**AN:** I cannot thank Filhound enough for her patient help in getting these chapters uploaded! I am so computer illiterate at times! LOL.

(POV Christina)

When Raoul arrived at our home, just as he had promised, I was so thrilled that he had actually come! He was so handsome, so different from the boys here in Sweden. To be engaged to be wed! Me! It was so romantic! Just like some of those story book tales we had read about in the attic on rainy days as children! While he was still only a vicomte, he would eventually become a comte like my father and it was still quite an honor to have him grace our humble home. In Sweden even a greve (a comte), lived simply in a small village. We did not want to appear to be showy. But Raoul was ostentatiously kind to all my family and they just did truly love him and welcomed his company. We all exclaimed over his fine clothing – finer even than my own ball gowns – and these were just his traveling clothes? I had heard that the French were famous for their luxurious clothing, but my goodness, his every-day attire must rival our king's finery! Raoul was eager to be gone and so we were off the very next day to catch a train that would take us to Helsingborg then a ferry across the strait to Helsingor in Denmark. My Tante Dagmar and Onkel Claus came with us as far as Helsingborg, but Onkel Claus became ill and had to return home. I was sad to see him leave, but Raoul assured us that the English footman he had brought along would be more than enough help with all of our luggage. From Helsingor we took a train all the way to Korsør where the ferries left for Kiel, and then a train to the great harbor of Hamburg where the huge ocean liners docked. I was amazed to see the harbor of Hamburg so clogged with tall sailing ships that it looked like a forest of masts.

I was so thrilled with traveling so far, I hardly noticed that Onkel Claus was gone, though I did wish he could have seen these sights. The vistas from the train, the stops we made along the way where, over my protests Raoul would buy me extravagant gifts, the food we would sample as we traveled through various districts or that we had been served on the ferry or the train that we took to Hamburg.

But when Raoul returned from making our travel arrangements for Paris, he looked a bit strange and flustered. "I need to ask something of you, Lotti. War has broken out between France and Prussia. As a Frenchman, I could be detained by the Prussian Authorities as an enemy of combat age. I am in the French army, so it would not be a lie. It means that I could potentially be sent to jail until the end of the war. Even if I am not, the French are not particularly popular here and we could be attacked by a mob. Please help me, Lotti?" As he spoke he began stuffing some pieces of a chewable substance called 'gum' into his mouth. He chewed this until he had a large wad of it in his cheek, then wrapped a handkerchief around his jaw, making it look like he had an infected tooth. "Lotti?" He placed a hand on each of my arms so I had to look squarely at him. "I need you to do this, for us. Pretend that I am your Swedish fiancé –just until we are out of Prussia. Instead of going through Belgium to Paris, we are going to Arles in the south where my family has a small villa. It is much further from the front, which lies between Strasbourg and Paris. You will love it there, but first you need to go along with this."

I was a little shocked at his proposal, what if the Prussians find out the truth and shoot us all as spies? This is dishonest and dangerous! Father would never approve of something like this! I would never approve of this! But he was looking at me so imploringly, like a little lost puppy… "Very well. I can't have my intended being hauled off to – to jail – or mobbed by a hostile Prussian crowd on the eve of our nuptials!"

And so Raoul became 'Roli', my very Swedish and very ill fiancé. He handed me our tickets – they were for Frankfurt and then, from there on to Zurich and beyond, into the Jura Mountains. What was he thinking sending us into the high mountains at this time of year? It might be more dangerous than skirting the battlefields. Surely neither side would harm civilians there, but in the mountains they have avalanches at this time of year. I later looked at a map and saw that this route was definitely on the other side of the country! Where was he taking me?

When I went to ask him about this he was in the lounge of the hotel having a drink with his footman, Hubert. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I heard him say that when he had joined the army, he did so only because that was what was done in his family. The uniforms were so stylish, and attracted a lot of attention from girls. He'd never expected to actually go to war! Then I heard Hubert ask, "Why don't we just turn around and go back to Sweden and wait there until the end of the war? Christina's family was very nice and so accommodating, I'm sure they wouldn't mind having a house guest for awhile?"

I listened to Hubert with approval. I thought that that would be a splendid idea. We could go for long walks along the sea, sing and play songs in front of a glowing fireplace in the evenings or swap stories about our illustrious ancestors.

But what Raoul said next, both shocked me to the core and dashed all of those hopes completely. "What? Sit out the war in that squalor? They live next to farmers and merchants and all manner of low life. Why even Christina and her father themselves indulge in such uncouth peasant activities like dancing and singing, even playing the violin and other instruments like so many common carnival entertainers. Who would even believe that they were part of the nobility? If it weren't for her beauty and wealth I would just leave her here in Hamburg and she could make her own way back to that dark, horrible and snowy place. Why in the world would you even suggest such a thing?"

I saw the servant stutter "Beg pardon, Sir, it may not be my place, but I had only thought that it might be the prudent thing to do sir, especially since you already told me that you wanted to avoid returning to Paris until after your regiment leaves, so that your father can obtain a desk job for you, or some sort of other ceremonial position. It seems a bit of trouble to take your circuitous route when you can accomplish the same thing simply by returning to Sweden and marrying her up there."

"Up, there? In that place? Her father would probably invite all of their peasant friends and we would have to be married among the chickens and the reindeer. I am not even sure why I am discussing this with you, you are only a footman, and English to boot. What do you know about such things? But of one thing you are correct: it is not your place."

When I heard this conversation I backed away from the doorway and ran up to my room and locked the door before throwing myself on the bed, weeping. How could he say such things about me, about my family? How could he even think such things? Maybe I misunderstood him? Maybe he was speaking of someone else? But he spoke with such vitriol, with such disdain for our customs. Maybe I could learn some French customs – dances or songs – and show them to him. Maybe that would make him happy?

Presently I heard Raoul knock at my door and try the latch. "Christina? Are you OK?" He asked me in Swedish, one of the several phrases that I had taught him. He was speaking to me in my native tongue, maybe I had misunderstood him, after all, I wasn't completely fluent in English. They were speaking in that language because they certainly couldn't use French, not in the middle of Prussia during a war against France. Too bad Raoul hadn't bothered to learn more Swedish.

"No, Roli, I don't feel well."

"May I come in?"

"I need to sleep… and I'm not proper."

Tante went to the door and told him that I must have eaten something that didn't agree with me and I needed to rest. He told her that our train would be leaving in four hours and we needed to eat and be changed by then. I heard her tell him that I would be ready and then I heard her close and lock the door. She came over and sat on the edge of my bed and rubbed my back in slow circles, "Lotti, maybe you misunderstood, maybe he was speaking of someone else?"

"Maybe" I murmured, falling asleep. "He was speaking in English, and I haven't learned that very well yet."

Five hours later we were on our way to Frankfurt. Once we were out of the train station, Raoul was more like his old self, although he had changed into a much simpler suit of clothes – still stylish, but less decorous. He had even dispensed with the gum wad in his cheek and resumed pointing out some of the sights along the way. As we traveled farther south, Roli would occasionally point out various castles and ruins from hundreds of years ago. Four hours later, upon arriving at Munich (München, they call it), we learned that we would have to change trains in order to complete our journey to Lake Constance and Switzerland. Not only did we have to transfer all of our baggage, but at each border crossing or change of trains, Raoul stood the chance of being discovered. It did occur to me that he might have been better off claiming to be English, what with him having an English footman and all, but with him having grown so touchy during this trip, I thought it best not to bring it up. Besides, he might have had other issues that would preclude doing that which he had not divulged to me. It was an hour before the next train was due that would take us to Lindau at the border with Austria, about eighty miles away.

Now Raoul was again getting restless. I tried to soothe him, but he wanted nothing more than to keep moving. I tried to get him to relax by rubbing his back, but he said that such a thing was vulgar to do in a public place. We couldn't speak much because he hadn't learned enough Swedish yet, though I tried to encourage him during the trip. I was so glad to have Tante Dagmar along with me. She was a great comfort, providing me someone to talk with, although Raoul at times grew testy at that, saying that it sounded like barnyard racket and to keep our voices down. We were finally able to board the train and Raoul sat down with a heavy sigh.

"Lotti?" He turned to me with a pleading expression, "Thank you. I have been an insufferable boor so far during this trip." I tried to protest, but he continued, "This was supposed to have been a pleasure trip to bring you to my home for our wedding, but it has turned into an agonizing trial of trying to thwart both Prussian and French military forces who have chosen this particular time to contest a part of France. I AM sorry about all this inconvenience to you and to your Aunt as well."

"Not at all, Darling," I told him. "You cannot help what the world determines to do. And I am being given a tour of Europe despite it all." I told him to maybe lie down with his head in my lap and I would massage his temples. I started to hum and then sing a soothing lullaby to him and some of the other passengers and servers traveling with us began to gather round. Raoul was back on his feet in a flash and ordered me to stop that 'caterwauling' immediately. I thought it beyond strange, but he later apologized for his abruptness, explaining that in this part of Europe, entertainers are considered to be gypsies and vagabonds and unsuitable as life partners for the nobility. I thought this to be rather odd as we were all having what seemed to be a good time, no different from back home, but Raoul was more familiar with the customs of the people here in the south, so I acceded to his wishes. Unfortunately, he didn't even like me singing in our compartment, which I found to be a bit disturbing. I would have to talk to him and explain my love of music and how it helped to soothe jagged nerves and anxious animals, as well as rowdy children.

He settled back down with his head in my lap so I could continue with the massage, but it wasn't ten minutes later that the conductor arrived and he was back on his feet, asking the conductor how long before we would arrive in Lindau and did we have to again change trains there?

When the conductor told him that yes we would be changing trains, Raoul all but exploded. He held it in, but I could see by his face that he was not pleased.

"Christina, I want you to repack your clothes. Whatever you don't specifically need for the trip, I will ship ahead to Arles. The rest we can take along with us."

"Repack? " I asked. "That will take hours."

"We have about an hour before we are scheduled to arrive in Lindau. Fortunately we will be stopping there because this train then travels east to Freiburg and then back north again and we will have to transfer to yet another train in order to continue into Austria. I am tired of the never-ending stops to transfer. I will hire a carriage for us and we can drive overland to Arles."

I opened my mouth to ask a question or two, but he told me sharply, "There's no time for questions. Repack what you want for the trip and I will have the rest shipped to my home in Arles." Still I hesitated and looked at him and he spoke to me in a firm voice I had never heard him use with me before this, "Just do it!"

"A Carriage? Raoul, it is too late in the season to be traveling by carriage. What if we are caught by an early winter storm? At this elevation winter comes earlier than in the lowlands. You have all four of us to consider now. It's not the same as traveling alone on horseback. Besides, the porters will help with our luggage – or, as you say, we can split it up and have the items least likely to be needed right now sent on ahead."

Raoul paused, warring thoughts visible on his face.

"Or do I need to purchase those skis for us?" I asked with a slight smirk, looking at him through my eyelashes.

"No, of course not." And his visage and indeed his entire body seemed to relax. "You're right. We can divide our luggage between what we need now and what we want to send ahead. That will make it easier to switch trains when we need to."

I put my hand on his arm and told him softly, "We'll get there, eventually. I'm sure of it." I gave him a small reassuring smile and he nodded and smiled back.

So Tante Dagmar and I repacked our belongings. My luggage, I was embarrassed to note, was quite extensive. I had not only brought my very best dresses from home, and all my necessary clothing, but I had also brought books to read and drawing paper and inks and pencils with which to draw. And winter clothing against the coming cold season. Raoul had laughed at my cautious nature telling me that in central and southern France where we'd be going, they didn't have the deep cold that we did in Sweden. It might get chilly for awhile and maybe a few inches of snow might fall, but the snow and cold were often gone within a day! Imagine that! I wondered how the sleighs could run when there was so little snow. Maybe I shouldn't have brought my ice skates? I did let Raoul convince me not to bring my skis. He assured me that I would be able to buy some new ones in Paris or in Chamonix or in Switzerland. He knew so much and I had so much to learn, about France and about their nobility.

At Lindau we changed trains for one that was Austrian and had to change again when we arrived at the Swiss border at the town of Lustenau. But this train would finally take us all the way to Genève where we would again transfer to a train to Avignon.

In Lustenau, while we were waiting for our Swiss train, arrangements were made for whoever of the passengers wanted to enjoy a meal at their hotel dining room. The owners were very accommodating and pleasant with us and served us a fine meal of grouse cooked in white wine and red potatoes with a creamy local cheese(I think they called it something like 'grooyare'?) and leek sauce with morilles in it. It was delicious, although Raoul asked our server if they had any truffles to add to the plate. They did not. He also requested a special tea, which he was a bit annoyed that they also did not have. After a pleasant fruit plate dessert served with glasses of something he called 'sack' (that he said had come from a place called Jeres – pronounced 'sherry' - near the southern coast of Spain!), we were finally escorted to our train. I couldn't help but feel that they were rather relieved that we were leaving their establishment, even though he made a show of paying them well.

At Lustenau Raoul arranged for two compartments for the four of us so that he and I would not be sleeping in the same compartment. That night I would finally get an uninterrupted night's sleep as the train rolled on along its track, its wheels producing a soothing rhythm that lulled me to sleep.

I woke to the sound of stillness – the train wheels had ceased their murmuring rhythm – and to hushed, confused voices mingling with those of people in command. Dagmar woke me and told me I had to get dressed, but when I lifted the shade I could see that it was still dark out. Puzzled, I asked her, "What's happening? Did we crash?"

"No, child," she said, quickly helping me to dress. "The train ahead of us has had a derailment and they are sending another train from Genève for us and those who survived the derailment."

Before I could ask another question, Raoul knocked at our door. "One moment," Dagmar replied, tying the strings of my dress and throwing a shawl over my shoulders.

I opened the door to admit Raoul. He looked from one of us to the other, "Are you ready to leave?"

"That depends. Where are we going?"

He smiled and took my hand, "I have rented a carriage to take us at least as far as Genève, perhaps all the way to Arles!" I opened my mouth to protest but he held up his hand to stop me, "Since we are almost through the mountains now and have not encountered any early season snows, I feel it would be safe enough to proceed the rest of the way by carriage, maybe stop and investigate some of the sights along the way?"

I couldn't help but wonder why, when he'd been in such a hurry to leave Prussia, he was now willing to sit back and proceed more slowly? Maybe he was hoping for the war to be over by the time we entered France? We grabbed our cloaks and some of the smaller pieces of luggage and followed him out, allowing the porter to carry the rest of our things.

The morning , when it finally came, was glorious! It reminded me of home, with a prolonged twilight before the sun appeared around mid-morning. Even though we could see the sun shining on the mountain peaks to our west , high peaks to the east kept the sun from shining on us until it was much higher in the sky. We were in a deep and broad glacial valley with massive mountain ranges on either side. It was almost like the Norwegian fjords at home.

As we traveled we would stop at various inns or patisseries to eat or to purchase something to picnic on. Raoul's man, Hubert, managed to locate some nice accommodations for us at night. It was a pleasant adventure… until the second night.

We had had a pleasant meal and retired to our rooms after a short walk to watch the early sunset over the mountain peaks.

During the night, someone entered my room and placed a hand across my face. I tried to scream and fight them off but with his strength and the awkward down duvet on top of me, my struggling was futile at best. When he flashed a large knife in front of my face, I calmed down. "Get dressed!" He ordered in coarse French. I looked around for Tante but couldn't see her. "I said get dressed! Now!"

Shakily, I nodded and gathered up what I had worn the day before and stepped behind the changing screen. 'Raoul! I need you! ,' I thought, hoping against hope that he would come and rescue me like one of those shining knights in those fairy tales! Fortunately, I hadn't begun wearing any of the fancy corsets that Raoul had brought for me, the kind that you need a maid to help with because they fastened in the back. So I was able to get dressed in record time, it seemed, and the intruder dragged me down to the kitchen. On the way I was able to peek into the dining room where I saw my Tante along with the home's owners, all tied securely to chairs. Just inside the kitchen door was Hubert, in a crumpled heap on the stone floor in a growing puddle of his own blood. He deserved better, I thought. Then I saw Raoul, being held at knife point with his hands bound behind his back.

"Raoul!" I cried out before I could stop myself and ran to embrace him. "Are you alright?" In the dim light I could see a mark across his eyebrow and another below his other eye on his cheek. "You're hurt! My hero!" And I gave him a hug before one of our attackers yanked me away.

"He tripped going down the stairs," said one of the intruders.

"What do you want with us?" Raoul spat at them. "If it's a hostage you want, take me and let the others go."

"Oh, we will. Rest assured that's what we will do; and we'll take this pretty woman along with us just for the fun of it! Javert will want to keep her for himself!" and he let out a greedy, lustful laugh. "Maybe we'll just give her a try-out, just to make sure she's good enough for him? Eh?" he asked, turning me around to face him.

"NEVER!"I yelled and stomped on his foot with my heel.

"EYOW!" He yelled and hopped over to a chair, then glared at me angrily, "So you want to play rough, eh?" and slapped me across the face, bringing tears to my eyes.

"Leave her alone, you pig! You'd better release us or the gendarme will be on your tail!" Raoul struggled uselessly against his bonds.

"The gendarmerie?" The gypsy walked over to face Raoul and got right in his face, "Do you think we're STUPID? The gendarmes are all asleep in their warm little BEDS! By the time they wake up we will be out of Switzerland and half way to Italy, where we will sell our little princess here to the highest bidder, unless Javert wants to keep her for himself."

Another gypsy entered the kitchen and told them, "Let's go. Javert will be waiting at the crossroads."

We all mounted horses and after Raoul and I were secured to ours, we headed up into those same high hills I had been watching; maybe not mountains by our standards, but high enough for the air to be thinner and colder. There was even a bit of snow in the air and the wind had a bite to it. I wished I could pull my cloak tighter around me, but my hands were tied to the pommel. All I could manage was to lean into the wind to try to protect my face which was tingling where I had been slapped. As the wind increased I noted that there were no small animals in the woods we went through, no birds, no sounds but the wind beginning to howl through the trees. It seemed as if all of nature had taken to their own shelters against the threatening storm.

A rider, closely hooded and caped, approached us from a crossroad and we stopped as he gave instructions in that coarse language of theirs. We turned our horses and headed in the direction from which he had come. I looked up and suddenly I saw a house, or at least the chimney pots of a house, through the trees. It was getting more and more difficult to see through the driving snow, but it almost looked like a thin wisp of smoke was coming out of one of the chimneys. _'At least it will be warm'_ I thought with a shiver.

We didn't immediately go inside when we arrived but had to wait outside while two of the men went inside to look around. Apparently I wasn't the only one who had noticed the smoke from the chimney.

When we were finally hauled inside we found an old man who appeared to be the owner and also appeared to have been dragged out of bed. I found it amusing that he didn't speak any of the languages that the gypsies did. He wasn't afraid to yell at them, but they couldn't understand what he was saying! Yet when I spoke to Raoul, this man seemed to realize that I was Swedish, just from my accent. How very curious that he could detect that! I didn't think I had an accent at all! I was further shocked when he began to speak to me in Swedish and even warned me about the danger these men posed! In Swedish! I don't know what surprised me more, that he was speaking in my own language that not even Raoul had bothered to try to learn or that he was bold enough to warn me about these men right under their noses! He was a real puzzle.

Since I was the only person who could communicate with him, we were inevitably teamed together for tasks such as cooking and fetching stuff in the house. I think Raoul was a little jealous of my new roles as interpreter and cook, although he refused to help with the latter and had no skill to help with the former. But he just sat in one of the chairs in the parlor and smirked and crabbed about everything I did. I finally yelled at him to grow up and do what needed to be done. During all these exchanges, I watched the old man and he was hiding something. I could see the intelligence in his eyes along with the sparks of understanding. Yes, he understood everything that was being said in the house. I couldn't help but wonder what he was up to.

One of the gypsies accidentally fell and broke his neck when a ladder broke while he was climbing up to reach the attic. Another fell off the roof outside. I was beginning to wonder whether this old man had anything to do with their deaths.

My opportunity to find out came when he offered to get me some everyday clothes to work in so I wouldn't further spoil the ones I had been wearing. He took me to one of the upstairs bedrooms and closed the door. To me it was obvious that he didn't live here as he didn't seem to know where anything was.

But when he casually asked me about my relationship with Raoul, I was conflicted. I thought I'd loved him, but since we'd been captured by the gypsies, he'd been balky, uncooperative, even petulant. I hardly knew him anymore. He seemed to have an outright dislike for people he considered to be beneath his station, just for being born less privileged that he was. That wasn't the way I was raised. I may have been the daughter of a count but I was raised to respect all people - well, the honest ones anyway. I just didn't know what to say. He'd become a different person; someone I didn't really like anymore.

The biggest surprise of all was when the 'old man' told me who he was. He said he was a court magician for the shah of Persia! He was an architect! I could tell he was also a musician; I could see that by the calluses on his fingers: he played the violin, just like Papa did some evenings, but did it with either left or right hand! And then he said he was an assassin, and that gave me pause. He told me he had been in service to the shah of Persia! What was he doing hiding here? I wondered what a hired killer was doing at a farm house in Switzerland? (Or were we in France? I wasn't even sure anymore.) He said he was hiding, running away from the shah… But then he told me that he was also hiding from the very gypsies who were holding us in this house! He told me that they had captured him as a small child and done horrible things to him for years until he'd been able to escape. He said that it was all because of a deformity he bore under the wrappings on his face. My goodness! How can people be so cruel? And to a small child?…. But could I believe him? I was nearly in tears at his revelations… I didn't know what to believe. I couldn't rely on Raoul anymore, I didn't have Tanta or Onkel or Papa to ask or rely on. I definitely couldn't trust the gypsies. The old man (he wasn't old, that was for sure! But he had to have a name. I wondered what it was? I once had a great-grandfather by the name of Erik who was said to be very wise and a wonderful musician. Maybe I should call him 'Erik', just for lack of a better name.) anyway, could I rely on him? I could see that he was honorable, but they say thieves are honorable among themselves.

So I told him my story and why I was here in France with no one but Raoul. After that, when he looked at me, he looked so sad and understanding and loving and I just wanted to put my arms around him, but just then someone called from downstairs for us to be done with it, so I took what he'd pulled out for me and he helped me to carry it all downstairs to a small bedroom next to the fireplace. He then announced that this was to be my bedroom and mine alone. Not even Raoul would be allowed inside. Now that really took some nerve. And even more surprising was that they all obeyed him! He had this easy, natural air of authority about him that others seemed to recognize. Well, everyone but Raoul. He continued to posture and boast about being my protector until one of the gypsies called him on it and he backed down, only to have 'Erik' come to my rescue!

That first night I went to bed, fearful that one of the gypsies would force their way into my room, afraid to go to sleep. But I was so fatigued by all the day's events that I drifted off. So I was startled when I woke during the night to find that I had been asleep! But I was thirsty, so I got up and pulled open the door – and almost tripped over 'Erik' sleeping on the floor, of all places, right across my doorway! If he didn't want me to get out he could have just as easily locked the door! But then it dawned on me that he wasn't doing this to keep Me IN, he was doing this as a way of preventing anyone else from getting in TO me! Oh, my goodness! This man, this wonderful old man that hardly knew me, was being more than honorable! I felt a tear slide down my cheek, and then another. Here he was - my knight in shining armor, the man I'd been dreaming about since I was a child! I would have hugged him, but he was sleeping so peacefully. I didn't want to disturb him, but at the same time, I was afraid if I went back to bed he might disappear. A sudden thought occurred to me and I got an extra down duvet I had seen in the chest at the back of my room and gently placed it over his form. Then I closed the door again as silently as I could and went back to bed, assured that he would keep me safe.

(POV – Erik)

After hearing the door click shut once more, I tucked the duvet around myself and smiled before allowing myself to drift back to sleep.

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	5. Chapter 5

Christina Ch 5

The reflected light flashed from the nearby hilltop in a regularly spaced rhythm, spelling out words in Farsi: "Doostam safe?" Erik made out from the coded signal. Nadir was aiming the signal in random directions, looking for him.

He climbed up some footholds on the side of the house where the sun had melted most of the snow, leaving bare spots he could use as steps to get up to the chimney. It wasn't as high as he would have liked, but it was the best he could do. Once He got Nadir's attention with the little hand mirror he signaled back, "Man – woman – 4 gypsies alive – 3 dead." Nadir acknowledged the message and disappeared. Only then did Erik see the gypsy watching him from below

"Hey! What you doing up there?" shouted Paolo, who had started to climb up after him. "You send signal someone, yes?" Erik looked around for something he could use and broke an icicle off the brick work. He and Paolo came closer to each other as Erik climbed down and then sideways along the edge of the roof. Paolo climbed up and followed him, pulling out a large knife. When Paolo got close enough to Erik, he struck out first with the knife and then with his hand and Erik braced for the blow. When it didn't come, he looked down and saw the ends of the cloth he'd had wrapped around his face blowing in the wind. "AI-EE! YOU! You are still alive! I remember you from the camps. You were Javert's 'Devil's Child'! He liked you! He liked you very much," he taunted. Erik continued to parry each attack until he was close enough to use the icicle. "He suffered much when you left. You cut him real bad! He'll be happy to know that you've returned to him!"

Erik caught Paolo's knife hand and pulled him toward himself, spearing Paolo with the icicle."I didn't hurt him bad enough, apparently." Erik smiled an evil smile and told him, in Romani, "Devil's Child has grown up to be the 'Angel of Death'!" and they both fell to the landing below with Erik on top, further driving the icicle into and through Paolo's body. Erik hurriedly rewrapped his face and made it look like he had just arrived on the scene. The knife, he saw, had disappeared into the deep snow.

Constantino and Javert rushed out to find Erik starting to bend over the body of Paolo and looking up at the side of the house, shaking his head. "What's going on here? Paolo!" Constantino slid his arm under Paolo's shoulders, raising him up slightly.

Paolo's eyes were like saucers; he looked like he'd seen a ghost. "Devil's Child!" Paolo said before he said no more. Erik reached into Paolo's pocket and 'retrieved' the small mirror and showed it to Constantino, tilting it back and forth to reflect the sunlight onto the side of the house.

"Paolo? Sending a signal? But to who? And why?" asked Javert.

"Maybe he was calling for help? Who knows? He was out of his head to get out of here," Constantino told Javert. "Two days ago he told me that this old man had stopped him from entering the woman's room at night and spoke to him in Romani. He was delirious. He was mad to leave this place. But what was he doing up there… signaling someone?"

"Or signaling for help?" said Javert, nodding solemnly. "Maybe that old man had something to do with this, eh?"

"Couldn't be," Constantino said. "I saw him get here just before we did from down below. He'd have to be a ghost to be in two places at once."

"He was a fool to think that we could not get out of here by ourselves! If we take all the horses and all the food, what chance would they have of following us? The snow is beginning to melt and that big black horse in the stables could forge a way for us to follow."

"And what a prize he would be, eh? And we could take the woman with us! She would be a prize too!"

"Where's that Frenchy? Have him and the old man pack up the food and blankets on the horses. Food for the horses too. Get Stephan to help you," ordered Javert. "I'll get the woman."

A voice seeming to come from inside Constantino's head said, *_It would be better to wait until travel is easier.* _Constantino looked around, slightly puzzled before reaching out to put a hand on Javert's arm. "You're right. Maybe we should wait a few more days. Travel would be easier."

He looked at his lieutenant and slowly nodded his head, "Yes... Let's not be rash about this. We're comfortable here and safe for the time being, eh? We can afford to wait a few more days."

He turned to leave and bumped squarely into Erik. It was like walking into a brick wall. He grabbed Erik by the upper arms, feeling his biceps. "Pretty strong for an old man!"

Erik held his place, looking squarely into Javert's face with an intensity that made Javert take a step back. _Something about this man was disturbing, throwing Javert off his game_. Erik shrugged his arms out of Javert's grasp and turned to leave. Javert reached out to grab him but Erik turned back and caught his foot, causing Javert to slip on the ice, sliding part way over the edge of the landing that overlooked the valley. Erik took a moment, just watching him hanging there, before he reached out and grabbed hold of Javert's sleeve and then his arm, again glaring coldly into Javert's eyes. Erik wanted to let him go, let him fall to his death for all the pain and torment he had caused both for Erik and the other captives all those years ago_. In his memory, Erik could clearly see Javert with his whip coming after him, locked in that cage, pulling down his pants and laughing at the fear in Erik's eyes, knowing what was coming. Then feeling the shame and the pain of it before Javert had had his satisfaction and left him alone._ But killing him would be too easy. He wanted to torment him for awhile first.

What Javert saw when he looked back into the old man's eyes reminded him of a cat playing with its prey. The old man almost seemed to be laughing at him while pretending to hang on to him for all he was worth. It seemed like a lifetime before Constantino reached down and helped pull Javert back up to safety.

Javert turned on Erik, grabbing his shirt, "Who are you? Why can't you speak the French like everyone else? Huh? Why you so special?"

Erik nodded and smiled as if Javert had been thanking him, saying, "Balé."

He gave Erik a shove, telling him, "Get out of my way!" and headed back into the house. He didn't see the glare of hatred thrown at him by Erik.

Erik followed Javert back inside but stayed in the woodhouse that was next to the kitchen. Javert reached out and took Christina by the arm, telling her, "Come with me and pack your things. We're leaving here."

"You're what? That's crazy! Look at all the snow out there! There has to be four or five feet or more. We can't travel in that! Not in the mountains!"

He raised his hand to slap her when he heard a voice just behind him, *_Beware the Shah's Assassin_!*

He turned sharply to confront the owner of the voice, releasing Christina, but found nobody there. When he turned back Christina was gone and the old man was standing at the work table chopping onions and garlic. He grabbed Erik's hand and got a fistful of garlic. He made a face and demanded, "Where is she? Where did she go?"

Erik smiled dumbly and nodded, "Balé! Balé!"

Javert looked at him, questioning, forgetting for the moment that Erik couldn't speak his language, then snarled and left to find Christina, "Woman! Get back here!" He was half way up the stairs when he heard it again, _*Beware the Shah's Assassin!*_ right behind him, But this time he was ready and he whipped around with his knife drawn… and hit nothing but empty air before driving it deep into the wall, pulling himself off balance and tumbling down the steps. When he looked up Erik was gone as well. _ I must be losing my mind too! This place is giving me the creeps! The sooner we get out of here the better! _He pulled himself back to his feet and with much difficulty retrieved the knife, and continued his search for Christina.

That evening Raoul volunteered to help with the supper dishes, telling Erik to go and get some rest, "You've been working too hard for someone your age. Go on, go put your feet up." He'd been thinking up a plan for several days now and this looked like the best time to tell Christina about it. He'd seen enough of her cozying up to the old man and running the household as if it were her own home. He'd had enough of the lecherous glances thrown her way by these vermin who had captured them. He'd had enough of the old man looking upon her more fondly that he, Raoul, ever had. He'd had enough. He sidled up to her, keeping a lookout for those pesky thieves and that stupid old man (Raoul was sure he was a simpleton). "Christina," he whispered to her, "I know that I have not been the sort of man that you had thought I was, and I'm sorry if I have caused you to doubt my intentions toward you."

She paused as she began putting away the dishes he was drying and looked at him, stunned. "Not at all, Raoul. Surprised perhaps, but I have never doubted your intentions." She wondered what he was getting at. This behavior was so unlike him, so she waited and continued putting things away.

"Christina, I've been thinking. I think I know a way we could get out of here – just the two of us…"

She turned quickly, about to say something when Constantino came over to ask if there was any more of the stew left? "I'm afraid not," she said, smiling pleasantly. "But there is some of the bread and some lard, if you'd like some of that?"

"Yeah. Get me some," and he looked at Raoul suspiciously, waiting for him to get back to work. Raoul turned away and picked up one of the large kettles and set it on the back of the stove to dry before grabbing some cutlery to dry with his flour sacking towel.

Christina soon returned with some bread smeared with lard and sprinkled with salt & pepper and a few savory herbs. "Here you are," and handed it to him. The gypsy gave Raoul one more distrustful glance before wandering off with his snack.

When he was gone, Raoul approached Christina once more, "I know of a way… that big black horse in the stable, he's tall enough to get through the deep snow. We can load him up with food and blankets and ride him out of here… tonight."

"Raoul… " and Christina shook her head. "Raoul, you don't understand the snow. It's too deep. The roads here have many switch-backs. We don't know where the drop-offs are. We could step off into one…"

"So we send the horse ahead. If he steps off the edge, we go a different way!"

Christina was horrified that he would suggest such a thing. To sacrifice an animal for such a purpose, well, there were better ways to deal with these gypsies. There had to be! She turned to him and looked at him, exasperated, "No. We can't do that. He isn't ours and he's a beautiful animal. Cesár is not ours to use, much less to sacrifice."

"Cesár? How do you know his name? He belongs to that old man, doesn't he? What has been going on between the two of you? I've seen the looks you give each other, the same kind of looks you gave to me not so long ago."

"Nothing."

"Just wait 'til I get my hands on that old man! How dare he force himself on you?"

"Raoul!" Erik was just bringing some wood past the kitchen and looked up at Christina's exclamation. She noticed and shook her head before continuing in a quieter voice, "Raoul, nothing is going on. You're imagining things, jumping to the wrong conclusions! All we are doing is trying to keep things running smoothly until we can get out of here somehow. Let's just be finished here. We are NOT taking that horse."

Raoul looked from Christina to Erik, flexing his jaw muscles, "We'll see." And stormed off to the stable.

He'd show them! He'd show them all – including that peasant princess! He'd been thinking more about his plan to bring back some troops. He'd decided that he needed to reassert himself over Christina, since she seemed to have mistakenly transferred her attentions to that old peasant they'd found in the house. She was betrothed to HIM! After all, wasn't a betrothal legally binding? She as good as belonged to him now and it would be up to him to get her attention back from that old man. He would steal away on one of the horses and bring back help. He could take a horse – maybe two would be better? – several days' worth of food, some heavy blankets and leave before any of them suspected a thing! And he would return with the gendarmes, or maybe the army and rescue Christina! He'd return a hero! He could see it now, him riding that big black horse that was out in the stable, leading the army to rescue Christina! He'd show them! He'd show them all how noblemen acted under pressure! He'd show them the proper way to deal with brigands and thieves! And Christina would fly to his arms and they could ride off together, leaving these vermin to the gendarmes. Or? Maybe he wouldn't return at all? He'd had just about enough of that peasant princess that he once thought was so sweet, but now was turning out to be too headstrong, not submissive enough for a proper noble wife. She used to be so sweet hen the6y's just met, but now she was showing her true colors. She was bossy and overbearing. He could never tolerate a woman like that in his own mother, much less in a wife. He hadn't quite decided that part of it yet. He'd been stashing food and clothing and spare blankets in his chest and under his bed.

When he was gone Erik returned to the kitchen to make some tea and asked her if she'd like some.

She gave him a weary look and replied, "Yes, thank you."

As he made the tea she looked closely at the cloth on his face and could see what looked like a trace of blood seeping through. "Mister?"

He handed her a cup and sat down opposite from her with his tea, "Yes?"

She leaned forward and quietly asked, "What's happened to your face?

"My face?" and he frowned, thinking, feeling the inside of his deformed cheek with his tongue, pressing here and there until he hit a tender spot. _'Damn, he thought. He must have just caught my skin with the tip of his knife!' _"It's nothing," he told her. "Must have nicked myself with the razor this morning."

She reached across the table to remove the cloth, "Let me see… "

He caught her hand before she could touch the cloth, "NO!" When he suddenly realized that his temper had again flared and that everyone was looking at them he hurriedly added, "I have my own salves for it. I don't need your help, but thank you for your offer."

She looked down into her tea, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. But I think you need to take a look at it before anyone else asks questions? It looks like it might be bleeding under the bandages."

"Thank you. You are very observant. I'll need some fresh bandages."

"Maybe a clean dishtowel? Or I could cut up a petticoat?"

"You know, we might have another way out of here," she said hesitantly, looking at Erik. "There are some skis in the barn, enough for three of us. Can you ski? Come with me."

"But first we take care of your face," and she led him toward the cellar, purportedly to select the vegetables for the next day. Once there, she produced a sewing scissors and cut up some of her petticoat and a dishtowel and poured some water in a basin for Erik to use. "I'll wait in the kitchen."

Erik took off the bandages and saw that Paolo had indeed caught two of the ridges of skin on his face with the tip of his knife. It wasn't much, but like Christina said, it was bleeding and could attract attention. _Damned misshapen face! _he thought_. There are more tiny blood vessels in this part of my face and they bleed more than a bloody nose! _He used some snow from outside to stanch the blood flow before applying a folded piece of the toweling to the cut and then winding it with the pieces of the petticoat and tying it off. He then picked out about a dozen apples and carried them back up with him in a basket and set them on the table. "Will these do?"

She looked in the basket and picked over the apples, "No. I'll come back with you and pick out what I want." And they headed for the cellar but then she turned around abruptly and examined the fresh bandaging on his damaged cheek. "It looks good!"

He pulled away from her, scowling looked at her, perplexed. _ We dare not be so close! Whenever we get close, I can feel her body heat, radiating toward me like a siren song, challenging me to draw even closer until there is no space between us. But I dare not; I cannot trust myself with her innocence, and yet, I cannot refuse its call …. But I must! And I cannot help but wonder, does she feel the same about me? Enough of such thoughts! Even if it were so, if she ever saw me she would no longer think that way about me!_ He followed her to the barn, "I know you are curious, but what lies under these bandages is not suitable for someone like yourself to gaze upon. I am hideous. I have been called 'Devil's Child' and 'Living Corpse"; I have been tormented, beaten, enslaved and put on display in traveling carnivals. It is not something I want you to see. Everyone who sees me runs from me in terror. I wouldn't want for that to happen to you." His voice had grown softer and his eyes more sad as he looked at her, pleading for understanding. Then he frowned a bit and his demeanor abruptly changed when he asked, "What is 'skeesis'?"

She studied him briefly, wondering what it was that had had clouded his eyes so and darkened them into pools of despair before they suddenly cleared once more? She giggled behind her hand when he said "skeesis" and looked around to make sure they weren't being overheard, "You strap long narrow boards to your shoes and glide over the snow with them."

"No."

"What do you mean, 'No'? It's easy once you get used to it."

"I mean 'No, I have a very valuable horse out in the stable that I am taking care of for a dear friend.' He is on his way here."

"A horse? You're risking your life for a horse?"

"He will be the sire of our herd of Persian horses, the only one outside of Persia, with horses rivaling those of the shah. Or so he hopes."

From behind Christina another voice was heard, speaking in French, "Of that I am quite certain!"

Christina spun around, covering her mouth with one hand to keep from screaming when she saw the Persian, dressed like an Eastern silk merchant, with his ballooning pants twisted around his legs and tucked into high leather boots, fur coat, flat-topped fur cap and long, curved scimitar peeking out from under his coat.

"Daroga!" exclaimed 'Erik'. "It took you long enough! I thought you were planning on hiding back there all night!" and turned, scowling at the man.

"Doostam!" the stranger replied, eagerly embracing 'Erik' and clapping him on the back while 'Erik' remained rigid. He pulled away from Erik and studied him and his attire, and in that strange language 'Erik' often used, "You have yet again reinvented yourself I see. What do you portray this time?"

"Just a silly old man who cannot speak any of the languages familiar to the gypsies!"

In the mean time Christina was looking from one to the other, frustrated that she could not understand what they were saying. She cleared her throat – loudly.

"Ahh…," said Nadir, turning toward her and speaking in French once again, "And who might your lovely companion be? You do seem to have a knack for attracting the loveliest of the fairer sex!"

Christina was horrified to find herself blushing at the compliment before remembering to curtsy. "Christina Daae Olavsdotter".

"Nadir Kahn. A pleasure to meet you, Mademoiselle," Nadir said, taking her hand in his and bowing. "I'm afraid I must agree with our friend here that skiing would not be the best way to escape with a horse," he said with a smirk, and Christina had to giggle at that while Erik simply huffed.

"There is one more in our party as well."

"Oh? " asked Nadir, looking from one to the other.

Christina suddenly looked rather sheepish, "My fiancé, Raoul deChagne."

"And this Raoul, he is strong and daring and can help to protect you?" asked Nadir, subtly probing as to why, if she was escorted, they had been captured and brought here.

Before she could form an answer, Erik offered, "He seems to be more of the loquacious sort than the functional, a figurehead - unfortunately without much of a head."

Christina stifled a snigger and looked around the barn.

"Ah, so we have two to protect and two to do the guarding…" He paced for a minute before Erik spoke up,

"May I ask how you got here, Daroga," he asked, tilting his head slightly, "without leaving tracks?"

Nadir scowled at Erik, "But you already know that, Doostam. It is the same as when we crossed the desert. Have you already forgotten? And it was not so great a distance anyway, only from the woodlot nearby to the well. From there the snow was trampled and well packed down."

"I have an idea!" Christine spoke up suddenly, looking at Erik. "You, Doostam – is that your name? " (_and an unusual name it certainly was, she thought!) "_can take Cesár, leading the horses, and I will follow on skis and begin to cover your tracks. Then you, Monsieur Kahn, and Raoul can follow on snowshoes to do a better job of covering our trail." She looked expectantly from Nadir to the old man.

Erik and Nadir looked at each other in amusement, eyes sparkling, when Nadir spoke up, "That's very astute of you, Mademoiselle, but 'doostam' is the word for 'my friend' in my language, the language of the people of Persia."

"Oh!" she answered, more than a little bit embarrassed. She could feel the heat rising from her neck and wished she could pull her shawl up over her face!

"My name is Erik," he said softly, with a small grin and a slight bow.

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**Read and Review, if you like!**


	6. Chapter 6

Christina Ch 6

When he'd said that his name was Erik, her jaw dropped and she just stood there looking from one to the other. "Truly? It is?" _How could this be? She had imagined a name for him, 'Erik', and it had come true! She grinned to herself, thinking, 'Maybe I should imagine him a prince to make my family proud – or at least, less apprehensive – about admitting him to our family. But they wouldn't care if he weren't a prince – I know they wouldn't, especially when he's as great a person as Erik is. Erik…. Oh, stop it! Raoul is the one they have chosen! The one I have chosen… Raoul. What will I do about Raoul?'_

"Is something the matter with my name?" asked Erik defensively.

"No, not at all (and she felt herself turning red once again! "_Oh, I wish I weren't so fair-skinned!"_) It's just that uh, I sort of, well, I didn't know your name, so I made one up – just in my mind of course…"

Now Nadir was intrigued. "And what was this magical name that you devised for our friend here?"

"Umm… it was 'Erik'," she said in a tiny voice that was scarcely audible.

"What was that?" Erik asked, not sure he'd heard her correctly.

Nadir quietly began to chuckle, causing Erik to become defensive and begin to redden, his fists growing firmer and flexing as he looked from one to the other.

"I said it was 'Erik', but I really didn't know what it was!"

"Is this some kind of a joke on me? Persian, did you put her up to this?"

Nadir was laughing by this time, "No! I didn't," he managed to choke out. "I knew nothing of this."

Erik turned to Christina, not sure whether to be angry or not, "Explain yourself!"

"Well, you don't have to get so mad at me!"

Erik paused and took a breath, realizing how tense he'd become. He had a terrible temper at times and he hated it. Sometimes it would overwhelm him and cause all sorts of rifts between himself and other unsuspecting people, but he was beginning to learn how to control it. He drew another breath and let it out before telling her, "I'm sorry if I frightened you. Please, explain yourself."

"Well, maybe I shouldn't say anything if you're going to bite my head off like that! You're the one who asked, after all!"

"I said I was sorry. Sometimes my temper just flares up out of control. I am slowly learning how to control it…"

"You must understand," Nadir interjected, "that our friend here has had little contact with people…"

"Enough, Persian! I think the lady was about to tell me something?" and he turned to her, "Please, proceed."

She looked from one to the other, uncertain as to just how friendly they actually were. Deciding to continue, she cleared her throat and said, "Well, I didn't know your name , and I couldn't keep calling you 'mister' or 'old man', so I decided to make up a name for you. I had a great-grandfather who was said to be very brave and musically talented and," - and her voice was getting smaller and smaller – "handsome and wise." By now she was really red in the face… "and anyway, his name was Erik. So I decided to call you Erik – in my mind, I mean."

"Ha, ha! She knows you better than you know yourself, Doostam!"

He was looking at her, stunned, wondering how this woman from the far north had found her way into his life. She spoke so simply, but relayed volumes in what she said. She was honest and clear-headed… and endearing, so very endearing. He could feel his heart beating irregularly and feel the heat rising to his face. Was this truly a gift, or was it just a joke? Was she intended for him, or intended only to be a tease for him, showing him what he could not ever have? He turned and stormed out of the barn. He needed to think.

Christina turned to go after him but was restrained by Nadir, "Let him be. He just needs some time to process this. "

"But," she began to protest.

Nadir shook his head, "He will be alright. He needs to get his temper under control, think things through. As I had started to say, Erik has had very little contact with people socially and is lacking in being educated in the social graces. He does extremely well, but there are times when his feelings are touched on and he becomes very defensive, at times losing his temper. So, in the mean time I would suggest you take those apples to the kitchen and begin preparing your meal for tonight?"

"But what about you? Where will you stay?"

"I am quite comfortable out here in the barn. The hay is quite warm near the center and I have food with me. At present it would be best if my presence were not made known to the gypsies. We can talk again tomorrow." He bowed to her and headed back to his hiding space but then turned around once more "But I will take one of those apples if you have one to spare?"

"Of course!" and she tossed one to him.

"Thank you!"

Christina carried the basket of apples, minus one, into the kitchen along with a small ham, wondering about this Nadir person. _ I wonder what sort of man this is who has befriended Erik all the way from Persia? He does seem to know Erik very well, and admire him… and he also seems to be quite capable of taking care of himself, even to finding his way all the way up here to reach Erik! Erik. His name is Erik! How could I have known that? How could I have even dreamed that? I somehow feel a connection to him like I don't feel with Raoul. He does have a temper, but how not if he has been treated as he has said? Yet it scares me._

_But enough of those thoughts! I am promised to Raoul. Raoul. I am finding myself less and less enamored with his behavior and his selfish attitudes. Is this the way all French noblemen act? If it is, maybe I need to find my way back to Sweden. Oh! I would so hate to have to leave here, to leave Erik! What am I saying? _She brushed away a tear, and then another, as she began cutting the apples into small chunks and adding some to each of three kettles of boiling water.

Erik stormed out of the barn, only to find a foot of new snow on the ground and more falling at a steady pace. _Maybe we'll be here all winter at this rate! Stuck here, with her? With Christina? Christina. The name was as delicate as she was – well, as she appeared to be. But look deeper and she was far from delicate. Fierce, strong, determined, capable, compassionate … she was perfect. A true Norse woman… Except that she was also curious. I wonder how she would react to seeing my face? … NO! I cannot risk it! What if she runs away in fear of me? I could never reveal myself to her, for if she ran away from me I would be destroyed. Yet, like a moth drawn to a flame, I cannot help myself._

As Christina worked in the kitchen Erik appeared at her side with a small canister labeled "Rumford's"_. "_I found this in the pantry, along with a letter from a Professor Horsford at Harvard in America. According to the letter they were colleagues and studied together under some German professor in Bavaria. He says this is his latest and greatest formula for powdered leavening and that it can be used when preparing things like dumplings and small rolls and sweet breads and even cakes. He says that it's much easier to use than yeast. It includes full instructions for using it." _What he didn't tell her was that, curiously, the note appeared to be addressed to _him_: "Monsieur Boivan "! _

"Good! Then you shall prepare the dumplings for tonight, since you seem to have all the pertinent information?" she said with a grin.

He bowed to her, "Gladly, Min Bäste."

Her fair complexion once again betrayed her as her cheeks turned a rosy shade of scarlet and she tried to hide a grin.

Erik tried not to smile at the result of his remark _(and he would have to find more occasions to create this result as it was breathtakingly lovely!)_ before turning toward the stable to visit with Cesár. Since acquiring Cesár several years ago, he'd become quite attached to this animal who'd become a comfort for him, seemed to understand his moods. But just as he got to the stable door he could hear voices from the other side and slid inside, concealing himself in a corner.

Apparently, a commotion had erupted in the stables and Javert had hurried out to see what the problem was. It seemed Raoul was trying to get a saddle onto Cesár but Cesár would have none of it, of course (Erik and Nadir were the only people who could handle this proud stallion.) He reared and bucked and twisted until Raoul ran out of the stall and clasped the door lock. He looked up to see Javert looking not very pleased. "That horse is a devil! He bit me!" he whined and he showed Javert the teeth marks on his arm. "He's wild!"

_It looked like the fool had decided to head out on his own, probably bring back the police and play at being a hero. He had to get that foolish fop away from Javert without showing his hand. This might be a good time to have some fun…_

"What are you doing out here with that horse?" demanded Javert incredulously. Javert surveyed all the packages and baggage arrayed nearby. "Where do you think you're going with all this stuff? You would steal from me? Steal from Javert?" and he raised his whip threatening to strike him.

Raoul looked up at Javert in stunned fear before a voice that seemed to come from inside his head said *_You told me to saddle up the black horse.* G_athering his wits enough to answer, he told Javert. "You told me to saddle up the black horse."

"I did nothing of the sort!"

Again the voice said, _*Of course you did! It was just after we'd had dinner. You'd gotten angry about something and as I was going into the kitchen with some dishes to be washed, I heard you right behind me, telling me to saddle him up and prepare to leave.*_

"Of course you did. It was ..."and he repeated what he'd heard in his head.

"You're losing your mind! I was just on the stairway with … with… uh, anyway, I was on the stairway! I can prove it. I got my knife stuck in the wall. I can show you where…" He reached for his knife but couldn't find it.

Then Stephan appeared behind him and reached around holding the knife out to him "Is this what you're looking for?" Javert grabbed at the knife and replaced it in its sheath. "You threw it at me to make me hurry up out to the stables."

He turned and scowled at Stephan and then at Raoul. "I did wh…? Yes… I did," he said haltingly. "I did it… to stop you. I changed my mind. We aren't leaving just yet! Have either of you looked outside? We can't travel in weather like that!" He looked at them and ordered, "Back to the house with you both!"

Erik followed them back but again concealed himself in the woodhouse and left the door open just a crack.

Back in the kitchen Javert turned to Christina, "Fix me some tea." Then to Raoul, "Get back where you were and leave the horses alone!"

"It's right there on the table," Christina told him. "You asked for it ten minutes ago." And she picked up a bottle of brandy, preparing to pour.

"And I want some brandy in it!" and he turned around and almost knocked the bottle out of her hand as she reached to pour it. "Uh… yes! Right!"

She looked at him curiously and tried to suppress a smirk, but it came off as a small smile as she nodded and recapped the bottle.

"Wait!" he called. "Give me that bottle!" She did and he filled his cup to the brim with the dark liquid. "There!" He turned back to Raoul, "Bring back those bags and take those bridles off the horses!"

Raoul looked back, confused, wondering whether he was supposed to stay or return to the stable?

Raoul let out his breath, thinking, _"Well, at least he bought it! They all bought my excuse for being out in the stable. I don't know where the idea came from - It was a brilliant last-minute idea; it just sort of popped into my head. But that's what being a Nobleman is all about – thinking on your feet! Yes! But I am sure glad the gypsies bought it! It seems I can outsmart them without even trying! Although now I will have to attempt to fulfill my plan another day, and this time Christina comes with me._

Erik could see his indecision and decided to end the confusion, throwing his voice to Raoul he told him, _*Unload the horses and put away their harnesses and bring the luggage back into the house. And put away the food you took.*_

Raoul looked around and said under his breath, "I wish you'd make up your mind!" before returning to the stables, muttering to himself.

_Erik could just barely restrain himself from laughing out loud. This was just too much fun! _He picked up some billets of wood and headed back into the house.

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Christina looked at Erik with amazement before shaking her head and asking, "Are you ready to make the dumplings?"

Erik gave her a meaningful look and ever so slightly shook his head before answering, "Yes, I am. Where would you like me to work?" he asked, setting the wood in the wood box near the stove.

When they got closer together she asked, "How did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"With your voice?"

"I don't understand. How many dumplings do you want?"

With her eyes still filled with questions she answered, "Four for each man … twenty-eight."

She gave him a large mixing bowl which he took out to the barn and set on a stool next to the hand mill. He ground out some of the wheat into a fine flour and dumped it into the bowl, then carried that back into the kitchen and rolled up his sleeves.

She gave him a look as he began to measure the powder with a coffee spoon, then added salt and pepper and mixed it with his hands. She giggled when he got some of the flour mixture on his trousers. She reached down to one of the shelves and came up with an apron and showed him with a grin.

"What?" and he watched as she tied it around his waist, then pulled the bib up and stretched to reach the ties to tie them around his neck. _Oh! I could live with that feeling of her hands on my neck! It feels like the tingle of being close to lightning._

She tried to ignore the feelings that ran through her arms as she tied his apron strings (_He sure is tall! Taller than Raoul! And his chest is hard as a rock! Such strength!) _and quickly went back to tending the ham & apple mixture, trying to hide the grin that was trying to form on her face. But what she couldn't hide was the blush again creeping up across her throat and face, so she turned away to busy herself with something else. Glancing up she caught Raoul glaring at her and looked away.

Erik took a good sized glob of butter and began working it into the flour with his long fingers, tossing the flour lightly as he mixed and making Christina begin to giggle at the sight of this fierce man doing such delicate domestic work. Then he dribbled in some of the water and mixed it lightly with his fingers, and a little more water until he had a rather gooey dough. "Ready?" he asked.

"Ready!" she replied and opened one of the kettles of the ham & apple stew. He expertly used a spoon to drop nine balls of the dough on the top of the bubbling mixture before she covered it with a lid and opened the second kettle. This was repeated until all the dough was used up and the three kettles were covered in a rising mass of what looked like lumpy mushrooms.

She looked at him and giggled. He had flour from the tip of his nose to his shoes. She retrieved a small hand broom and they went out to the wood house where she could brush him off while he gazed at her, thoroughly enjoying the experience. They both became aware at about the same time that, completely unbidden, his manhood had begun to respond to her ministrations. Erik had never before been so grateful for the presence of an apron. They made a show of stepping outside of the door, and into the crisp cold air, to finish the job, both now having acquired a rosy glow that wasn't entirely due to the cold air.

They returned to the kitchen where Erik told her, "It won't be long now – about twenty minutes." So she began setting the table and getting the coffee going. Erik opened first one kettle and then another and used a spoon to turn the no longer little puffs of dough over so they could cook on the other side for awhile without the cover on before announcing that it was ready. It was a great treat and there was just enough 'extra' that Erik could take some out to Nadir. Nadir at first declined, due to the meat being pork which was forbidden by his religion, but when Erik reminded him that it was his obligation to eat whatever had been placed in front of him in hospitality, he relented and enjoyed his dinner. Besides, his stomach was growling shamelessly in anticipation of the dish.

When Erik returned, she grinned at him, "Well done, Min Bäste!" and curtseyed to him. He replied with a bow and a grin, while Raoul scowled and snarled to himself, thinking, _"She never has done anything like that with me. Why does she do these things with him and not me? He's certainly no better than I am – far from it. Just wait. I'll show both of them who's the better man!"_

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After a satisfying meal of "Apples and Buttons" the world seemed to have gone silent causing Nadir to open one of the windows a crack to look outside. More than a foot of new snow covered everything and the snow was coming down heavily once more. He ruminated to himself, "It is not a matter to be decided tonight, Doostam. It seems to have been decided for us, temporarily at least. Nobody is going anywhere."

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That night after everyone had gone to bed, Erik sat up for awhile with a lantern, reading the homeowner's cooking manual in search of something that Nadir might eat. Being a Muslim, he was forbidden from eating pork products. Unfortunately, most preserved meats were either made with pork or enhanced with pork gelatin or pork fat. He put the book away, deciding that all he could fix would be something with the grouse he had returned to the cubby space near the roof peak. He'd have another look up there, he thought he had caught a glimpse of a smoked goose or turkey in the very back of the space. He put out the light and rolled up in his duvet, but couldn't sleep. He kept wondering, _What if she didn't run away from me? What if she was that one-in-a-million woman who could see me through that hideous façade of a gargoyle I wear as a face? What if she could see beyond the distortion? I do so long to feel the arms of a woman around me! We were so close today, I could feel her soft bosoms brushing up against me, stirring me to get even closer to her. Oh, to be able to put my arms around her, and hold her close, feel her breath, hear her heartbeat. But I am only dreaming! The only way I would have of knowing would be to let her see my ugly face. And if she ran off in terror there would be no going back, no second chance for me and I would be alone once more; and not only alone, but left with my hopes shattered and my heart broken yet again. I would be better off just walking off one of these cliffs that surround us. I wonder what that would feel like?_

On the other side of the door, Christina was also having trouble going to sleep. She kept remembering how she had felt earlier that evening. _I am afraid to admit to myself that I absolutely loved the easy playfulness that Erik and I had while we had been cooking. The way that the flour messed up his face. His reaction to my brushing the flour from his clothes! His smoldering aqua eyes looked so adoring and gentle. It rather shocks me that such a fierce man can be so gentle and kind.__  
_

_I was so irritated by Raoul and his cowardice which ended up putting us in our bind with the gypsies but perhaps the whole matter was a godsend. For if Raoul had been the brave and gallant man that I had once believed him to be I might never have met Erik.___

_He claims that he is hideous under his mask but all that I see is the beauty of his eyes, and I would rather die than confess it but from what I have been able to discern, his body is absolutely divine. Like the statues of the old Greek and Norse gods that I have seen in the museums in Stockholm, he appears to be chiseled from stone.___

_Does that make me a hora, a fallen woman, to imagine how nubile his perfect form must be under his clothes? I dare not even think in this way lest I have to confess my sins to Father Humbertus when I return home to Uppsala. Surely I cannot marry one man when I have feelings for another, no matter how much my family wants me to marry Raoul.___

_Why should I have to pay for my mother's friendship with a snobby French Comtesse, almost twenty five years ago? I know that it was her dearest wish and I wanted to grant it but she is dead, and never met Raoul. I think that even she would want my happiness over remaining true to a girlish whim. Please God, give me the strength to tell Raoul that it is time to free one another from our mothers' wishes. Surely no couple could be less suitable. Raoul needs a meek and thoughtless girl who loves beautiful clothes and wants only to have his children and attend social functions on his arm. I need something more – music, laughter, love, things that I could see Erik giving me, and I giving to him.___

_Raoul would never do so because he would call it peasant-like. I don't care what Erik has done in his past because I feel that I have seen into his naked soul and know that no matter what he has done in the past, it must have had an important purpose. I sense that he has not had much to smile about in his life and I would like to change that. _And so I dreamed of ways to make this wonderful man happy.

_O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o_

A squeak in the floor alerted him to the presence of another person, stealthily edging their way toward him. He readied his Punjab lasso and waited. A heavy form launched itself at him and he rolled out of the way, snagging his lasso around their neck. Before he had a chance to see who it was a slicing pain shot through his side and into his ribs, causing him to involuntarily jerk and tighten the lasso. He rolled over and was face to face with a struggling Javert. "You are so anxious to see behind the mask? You were looking for the Devil's Child? Well, he's all grown up now." And he pulled off his mask and gave him a wicked smile and jerked the lasso tighter, nearly ending the life of Javert. He heard another man approaching and rolled to meet this new threat, pulling Javert on top of himself, when yet another form launched itself from nearby and brought the second attacker to the ground with a loud "Oof!"

A light came on and then another and Constantino stood up, reaching down for him. Nadir grabbed his arm and pulled him away, twisting his arm around behind him until it snapped. Constantino let out a Yelp of pain while Nadir expertly tied him up. "No! No! I wasn't… Wait!... I'm on your side!" He looked at Erik and said, "Look at me! Don't you remember me? Roll up my sleeve and look at the scars!"

Erik stood up, still holding Javert in a strangle hold with his lasso and looked over at Constantino, curious, oblivious to the blood staining his shirt and dripping to the floor.

Nadir did as he said and Erik looked over at his arm, criss-crossed with scars. "You saved my life when I was very little. The healer was away and I was attacked by a wolf. You had been learning her ways and were the only one who could help me. "

Nadir growled through his teeth, brandishing his dagger, "You had better not be lying or I will relieve you of your tongue, Infidel!"

"No! No! It's the truth! Please remember! I don't know your name, we only ever called you the Devil's Child, and it wasn't long after that that you escaped."

Erik looked closer and saw the scars, including the scar of an incision he had made to release the poisons that had built up in the child's arm and the tiny marks from the stitches he had used to sew up the wounds. "Yes, it is him."

Just then Christina emerged from her room and saw the carnage just beyond her door. When she saw Erik without his mask, she let out a gasp and turned away. _He looked so fierce! He reminded her of Onkel S__ø__ren_ _after he'd been mauled by a bear. He looked awful, but he was always such a sweet person, despite his ferocious appearance. _She turned back again and saw that he was injured and again covered her mouth, fighting back tears. He looked away, saying, "Get her out of here, Daroga! This is no place for her to be!"

"I only have two hands, Doostam," he called back over his shoulder while tying up the Gypsy called Constantino. "Unlike some others I know, I can only be in one place at a time."

Erik dragged Javert to a pillar and tied him securely, looping the end of the lasso to a sturdy crossbeam high on the post so that he was close to being strangled, but not quite. "Continue to struggle and you will succeed in ending your own life!"

" You're hurt!" She went to the kitchen and retrieved some towels and a basin of water. By the time she returned he had slumped down into a chair. She began cleaning him up to see where the injury was while wiping away her tears.

"I said, GET HER OUT OF… HERE!" Erik said between his teeth.

"Be quiet and hold still!" She looked at him defiantly before tearing open his shirt to gain access to the wound and applying pressure.

He gritted his teeth against the pain, watching Christina while she worked on him, trying to stanch the flow of blood. _He was without his mask, yet she wasn't screaming, she wasn't running away, she wasn't horrified. In fact, she didn't seem to be bothered much at all by his exposed face, although she did glance at it from time to time. She seemed more curious than horrified. … But now his chest was exposed, too! She would be able to see all those ugly scars. He wanted to bury his face in a pillow._

She turned to look at Nadir and he leaned over, having tied Constantino to a chair before coming over to help.

Erik looked down and could see the blood oozing out around the edges of the compress Christina was using. He knew what arterial blood looked like. "It looks like you have more nursing to do, Daroga."

"If you would ever learn how to stay out of trouble, I would have far less of it to do." He nodded to another gypsy lying next to Erik, "Who's this?"

Erik looked around, "Stephan. He must have been the one with the knife."

"Well, he has a knife in his back."

"That would be mine," said Constantino. "Who are you?"

Nadir glanced over at him, growing paler by the moment. "A friend. Your knife, you say?" And he reached over and cut the rope binding him to the chair.

Erik turned his head to look at Javert. "I hope you realize I could have killed you. I still can!"

Javert sneered and gasped for breath, "You're in no condition … to kill… anyone, … much less me!"

Nadir looked thoughtfully from Javert to Erik, "Hmm… I'll ask more questions later. Let me do that," He said, reaching for the towel Christina was using on Erik.

She paused and looked back at Erik, "Is he the one?" nodding toward Javert.

He weakly looked at Javert, then looked away. "Yes, he… AGH!" as Nadir applied more pressure. "You really do delight in … causing me more pain …. than necessary, …. don't you Persian?" he said through gritted teeth.

"You just needed a heavier hand than that little girl could deliver.

"Maybe so, but you do seem to … agh! to relish it overmuch."

"You also need to lie down to allow some of this blood to reach your head." And he and Christina helped him to lie on the blanket he'd been using.

"Where is your other party? The fiancé?"

They switched positions, "I'm not sure how much help he'll be," she said and she left but returned presently with a large bowl filled with snow and set it down next to Nadir. "This can help to stop the bleeding and reduce any swelling. Wrap some in a towel and apply it to the area." She then went to find Raoul.

"And what are we to do with your friend here, Doostam? I have seen this torture of yours before, in the shah's torture chambers, and know it to be a slow death. But it is not something I would wish for the woman to see."

At the mention of the shah's torture chambers, Javert's eyes grew larger in terror and he began to struggle anew. "The more you struggle, the sooner you will die, my friend," Nadir told him. "The longer you live, the greater the chance that Erik will forgive you and let you go free."

Angrily and through gritted broken teeth, Javert replied, "He will NEVER forgive me for what I have done! How could he? I had hoped to kill him when he was a child. That child had a terrible way of infiltrating my head with his disgusting face and cloying voice. I needed to kill the boy to free myself from him. I wanted to erase every trace of him from my presence. But it was not to be. Even though he escaped, and has often been reported to have died, I found that there was no way to remove the memory of him. He has haunted my mind forever like a Phantom."

Erik mustered what little strength he had and with a cold glare at Javert told Nadir, "Take him … to barn…" and passed out.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

**Translation: Min Bäste **= My Dear (in Swedish)

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	7. Chapter 7

Christina Ch 7

With Javert tied up to the post and Erik passed out, Nadir turned his attention to Erik's wound and finally got the bleeding under control and got him bandaged up. He sat back on his heels and took a deep breath before studying and then approaching Constantino, "Why did you come here tonight? What was your motive? Are you not a gypsy like the others?"

Constantino was still sitting on the chair, leaning over and holding his arm. He looked up at the Persian with fear in his eyes, unsure of what was about to happen or what this foreigner's role was in all of this, and answered , "I came to help … _him_," he said, indicating Erik. "I followed Javert because he was bragging about how he was going to kill 'that devil'. He figured out who he was and I was afraid that he would kill him, so I followed to try to stop him."

"You did what? Traitor! You worm! You did that to me? To Javert?" Javert choked out angrily.

"Why?" asked Nadir, ignoring the gypsy leader choking on Erik's Punjab lasso.

"Because I owed him my life. It was a debt I needed to repay. "

"You owe me everything! I saved you! You ungrateful dog! You _marime'_!" Javert choked out.

Constantino turned on Javert, "You?! You stole me from my family – killed them. I have hated you all my life and prayed for the day when I could revenge their deaths! You killed my sister when she was carrying your child! What sort of monster does such a heinous thing? And then you kept me as a slave. Tell me, what is it exactly that I_ owe you for, eh?"_

"We were both on our guard for your attack tonight," Nadir told him. "Fortunately, Erik was able to fend off Javert's attack before I could even respond."

Constantino looked up, questioning, "Erik? Is that his name?"

"Yes." Nadir laid his hand on Constantino's shoulder and asked almost casually, "How's your shoulder doing?"

"You can't trust him, fool! He's not one of us. He isn't even a Christian, Tino. He's an Infidel! A Persian dog!" Javert snarled, trying to somehow twist free of his bindings, causing them to tighten even more.

Constantino ignored him and looked over at his shoulder and shook his head, "It hurts… YAGH!" and he screamed as Nadir re-set his shoulder with a sudden jerk to his arm. "Are you CRAZY? What was that for? I oughta…" And he stood, putting up both fists, ready for a fight while Nadir didn't react, just watched, waiting, with a slight smile. Suddenly Constantino looked down at his fists, then at his arm and looked up at Nadir, "Hey! That was good! It feels better! Thank you!"

Nadir nodded to him and helped him get his arm into a sling. "You need to rest the muscles for a few days, but I must admit that I did have ulterior motives for helping you."

Constantino looked at him, questioning, "Oh?"

"Yes. I need your help to carry our friend into the bedroom."

Javert snorted at them.

Constantino glared at Javert before turning to Nadir, "Gladly. What do you need?"

Despite a few moans from him, they gently tied the corners at the top and the bottom of the blanket Erik was on into a knot, then lifted the knots onto their shoulders and half carried-half slid Erik into Christina's bedroom and lifted him up onto the bed. Erik woke as they were lifting him and moaned, asked, "Persian, now what have you found to cause me more pain?" (He tried to sound fierce but was too weak to pull it off and sounded more delirious than anything else.)

"You complain too much, Doostam. We're just getting you settled here in a bed."

"Ugh." and he drifted back into a shallow, uneasy sleep.

Nadir was just checking his bandages one more time when Christina came into the room and stopped short upon seeing Erik in the bed, looking so pale and helpless, almost …. She put one hand across her mouth and let out a small cry. "Is he…?"

Nadir looked at her and frowned in concern for her, "He'll be alright. He's lost a lot of blood, but he should be fine in a few days."

She sank down onto the floor with her head in her hands, weeping, "Oh! I was …so… afraid…"

He rested a hand on her shoulder, "He'll be fine. He's survived much worse, believe me. Would you like a chair or some cushions? Or maybe the duvet from outside your door? You and Erik seem to have devised some rather, er, unique? sleeping arrangements," he said with a smirk.

"It was his idea, to keep the gypsies and Raoul from coming in here at night."

"Raoul?" asked Nadir, "That is your fiancé?"

"Yes… No, not anymore. He's out in the stable, 'protecting' the horses and plotting our escape. He grows less rational every day. Less reliable. I don't think I even like him anymore. Erik has been so protective of me while we've been stuck here."

"Hmm, Erik is a very gallant gentleman, when he wants to be."

"Persian, will you just shut up for once or talk elsewhere? You're worse than an old washerwoman!"

Nadir looked at Constantino and Christina and smirked, "He also has trouble accepting compliments."

"Out! Get out!"

Nadir turned to Christina and said quietly, "There is medicine in the glass on the table. See that he drinks a little each time he wakes up. It will help him to rest."

She nodded, "I will. Thank you."

"For what? He is my friend; I could do no less." And he bowed to her and left the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Out in the parlor, Constantino was restless, pacing back and forth, from time to time studying Javert, each of them glaring at the other.

Nadir paused a moment after leaving Erik, studying Constantino, before saying, "Come. We need to move him to the barn."

"Hah!" Javert taunted. "You will need to release me to do that!"

"Of course we will," Nadir smiled at him congenially before clocking him. "See how easy that was?"

While he was unconscious they carried him to the barn and strung him up in the same way out there and returned to the parlor to deal with Stephan's body. They dragged Stephan out into the snow, with Nadir telling him, "We won't have to lift him as we did Erik, and the snow should do well enough to preserve his remains until other arrangements can be made."

When they were back inside Constantino studied Nadir for a few moments before asking, "Who are you? How did you get here in all this snow? You are much stronger than you look. Where are you from? You don't look like you're from anywhere around here."

Nadir grinned and explained how he and Erik had traveled from Tehran together, fleeing from the shah, and become stranded by the early storm, then asked, "And what about yourself? How is it a Catalonian is traveling in company of gypsies across the mountains of Switzerland?"

" I was born on the shores of the Mediterranean," answered Constantino. " I was the youngest of seven children. My family had been fishing, raising sheep, tending our olive trees from time immemorial. The neighbors called my father 'el Morro', because like me, he had olive skin, a large nose and jet black hair. Only his eyes were light. Of all my brothers I resembled him the most.

"As the youngest child, I was my mother's favorite. She babied me over all her other children. She used to hold me tightly and was reluctant to let me go and play with my older brothers and sisters. I wonder if a part of her truly anticipated my horrid fate?

"She told me that she had named me Constantino after the great Roman Emperor who brought Christianity to the Pagan Romans. I later thought that perhaps I was supposed to do the same for the gypsies even though they were nominally Christian. Javert was one of the cruelest men that I ever met.

"When I was very little, maybe 7 years old, our family farm was raided by gypsies. My parents and older brothers were killed and my sister and I were taken captive. Javert took my sister as a wife, but she later died in childbirth. He kept me as a servant. He was a pig!"

"I never forgot that boy who was treated even more poorly than me. They called the boy 'The Devil's Child' but he was never that for me. His only fault was that he had a terrible deformity that made his face look like that of a corpse but he was the brightest person that I ever met.

"At first, like everyone else I was petrified of him. He seemed to embody his name but one day I had been hurt badly and was on the verge of death. The gypsy healer was gone so they brought me to him. I turned away from him in horror and he only looked back at me sadly and started speaking to me in my own language of Catalan and soothed me. I had not heard my language since they stole me from my family. Yet he spoke it with barely an accent and his voice was so beautiful and melodic. I could not help but relax and let him tend to me. He saved my life and from there on out I would sneak away when I could and we would keep one another company. I would tell him about the gentle sound of the sea lapping against the side of the pier where we kept our fishing boat, and about the olive trees that had nurtured my family for 1000 years.

"He promised me that some day he would rescue me so I could see my mama one more time, and that she would hold me in her arms. I asked him about his family and he just turned away tearfully and explained that his father had died a few years after he was born and that his mother had never loved him so he ran away to give her peace. I smiled at him and reached through the bars of his cage and promised that if he would try to rescue me that I would take him to my home and we would adopt him as one of our own. He asked me hopefully, 'Do you mean it?' I replied, 'Of course I do.' From there on out we were not only friends but brothers because we both had suffered like brothers. A short time later he attempted to kill Javert and had to run away because the gendarmes were after him.

"I had been out picking pockets with my gypsy captors when it happened and did not get back in time before he left. He was gone and I remained a prisoner of the gypsies. Over the years I wondered what had happened to my old friend and brother. I think that this man who we have encountered is him. He is in disguise but his voice it is the same one just older sounding than the boy who ran away. The boy who was my brother in suffering."

"I owe him my life. I couldn't let Javert kill him."

"I am quite sure that he will consider your debt paid, but that is something you must discuss with him. For now, we need to let the horses out for some exercise."

Constantino looked at Nadir, his eyes filled with questions, "Of course, but horses? In this ?"

Nadir smirked, "You'll see!"

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Christina heard some noises near her head and jerked awake to find Erik trying to sit up. She jumped to her feet and gently urged him back to lying down. He was reaching for something and she looked around… a can! _Oh! I can't do this! He would be so embarrassed!_ She brought the can to him and looked from it to him, unsure of what to do.

"Just give it to me, under the covers," he told her weakly.

She worked it under the covers until she felt his hand grab hold of it (_at least she hoped it was his hand she felt! It was so cold!_) then stood back and waited. When he was done, she put the top back on the little can and set it against the wall before taking a wash cloth to wipe his hands. He looked so weak. Just that little task had taken most of his energy.

"Do you think you can drink some of this?" as she held the glass with the medicine to his lips.

He nodded slightly and she raised him up enough that he could drink. "Could I have some water?"

"Of course!" and she got him a glass of water and helped him to drink some of it.

"Nadir? Where is he? He should be here. Not you."

"He and Constantino had to see to Javert."

"Raoul?"

She looked down at her hands, "I don't know, maybe in the barn. I haven't seen him since last night." _And I hope I don't see him again, she thought. He was a coward not to come to Erik's assistance and a coward not to show his face around after he'd been injured!_

"Don't you think you should talk to him? He's probably worried about you." He turned his head slightly away, "I would be."

She caught her breath and looked at him hopefully, then shook her head, "I'm afraid the only thing he's worried about is what his mother and friends will say. He doesn't think much of me anymore. He told me I was common, contaminated, that I was only a curiosity to show off to his friends. And after what my poor Tante has had to endure… how can I ever go home again? I am so ashamed!" She couldn't believe that tears began to fall, and right in front of Erik! She quickly wiped them away. "He says I am a fallen woman, and now have no hope of finding an honorable husband for my family. No man will take a woman who has been disgraced and left wandering across the country with no escort and no husband. How can I ever face my father?" More tears were now falling, despite her efforts to wipe them away.

"You have no reason to be ashamed. He doesn't understand."

She looked up, "What doesn't he understand?"

"You." He weakly patted the side of the bed, "Come sit here so I don't have to talk so loud. Please."

She sat near him and studied him, his eyes heavy and weary, yet intense, beautiful deep aqua. She thought , _After all this man has gone through, he can still be pleasant, even gallant, with me! Why couldn't my engagement have been to someone like him_?

He rested his hand on top of hers where she'd set it on the bed. His hand was cold so she put her other hand on top to try to warm his. _His hand is so strong and his fingers are so delicate and long. I wonder how it would feel to have his hands caressing my skin?_

"He doesn't understand what a wonderful person you are. He doesn't appreciate all the beautiful and lively things you could bring to a relationship." He grasped her had within the warm cocoon she had made with her hands. "You have so much life and love inside of you; you will make some man, some lucky man, very, very happy. But not Raoul. It would take him a lifetime to understand who you are. It would take you a lifetime to teach him how to appreciate all the things you do and love. He's still very much a child and I'm afraid always will be."

She removed one hand and wiped at her eyes, wondering how this stranger was able to draw her out, to get her to talk with him so easily about her situation, make her feel soothed without saying anything. She nodded, "I know. I just don't know how to tell him. I have no place else to go, no-one else to rely on, to help me get back home. The gypsies stole everything we had, though I suppose I could wire my father and he would send someone down here to get me. I don't know how I can ever face him. All the money he gave to Raoul for our wedding, all his and mother's hopes for me to make a good match and find a loving and handsome man. He would be so hurt because mother is gone now and he is trying to do his best on her behalf and…"

He squeezed her hand and then reached for her arm, pulling her down so he could give her a hug. "You don't need to worry about any of that. You can stay here as long as you need to. I'll see to that." And he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, drawing her close to him on the bed. "Don't you worry about anything…" She felt the encompassing warmth he was offering her enclose like a protective shield and relished it, snuggling against him.

"Thank you, but … you sound like you need to rest, Erik. Erik. That's a very Norse name," she said between sniffles. "Erik the Red was a folklore hero who discovered America, you know, at least that's what my grandmother taught me. She taught me many things, including some lullabies." And Christina went on to sing some lullabies to Erik, albeit in Swedish, thinking to sing him to sleep but unaware that he was listening, rapt. After three songs she fell asleep wrapped in the duvet on the edge of the bed, his arm around her holding her close. He thought, _If you would have me, I would care for you and keep you safe, protect you from those who would defame you and deny you due respect… if you would have me?_

After awhile, Erik heard the footsteps of Nadir (he could tell Nadir's steps by the boots he wore) and the bedroom door opened. Erik held his free hand up, then touched a finger across his lips. Nadir crept a few steps closer and saw Christina asleep next to him. He looked at Erik with surprise followed by a look of consternation. Erik scowled back and waved him off and he tiptoed out of the room and closed the door.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o00o0o00o0o

A few hours later, Raoul came in from the stable and headed straight for Christina's room, walking past the napping Nadir and Constantino. He flung open the bedroom door and took a few steps before exclaiming in a very loud voice, "What the hell is going on here!?"

Christina tried to sit up, not remembering that she was perched on the side of the bed, and fell on the floor. Before she could get her bearings, Raoul had grabbed her arm and was dragging her out of the room, "Come on! We're getting out of here right now! I will not have my fiancé consorting with circus freaks and heathens! Get your wrap. We leave now!"and he dragged her out into the kitchen, heading for the stable.

Christina was protesting, crying, "Raoul! Stop! It's not what you think! He just saved our lives and he's hurt!"

Erik painfully got up, telling Raoul , "Leave her alone she has done nothing wrong, nothing to be ashamed of. How dare you treat her like she's your slave! Leave her be!"

"Hah! And who's going to stop me, YOU?" Hahaha! I'm an officer in the French army; I can take you on any day!"

"Is that so?" came a voice from behind him. He whirled around to see Nadir with his sword drawn and ready to do battle.

"Who the hell are you? Another circus freak? Some kind of Saracen infidel? Haha! I could best you blindfolded!"

"Raoul! Stop this! You're making a fool of yourself! These men are our friends! They've released us from the hold of the gypsies!"

" Oh! And what's this? My whoring fiancé is pleading for her vagabond friends? Maybe I ought to take you to bed as well, since you have already been there with this, this escaped _circus thing"_

Erik had heard enough from him and stepped forward, pulling Christina from him and backhanded Raoul across the face, sending him sliding against the stable wall. "You vermin! How dare you speak to her that way! After all she has done for us – yes, you included – during your captivity! I'd like to string you up out there in the barn with Javert. Better yet, put the two of you in a cage together and see who survives!"

Raoul got up from where he'd landed against the stable wall and made as if to charge Erik. "Why you misbegotten freak!" and reached to draw his sword, but Christina intervened.

"STOP IT!" she yelled, grabbing hold of Raoul's arm. "STOP THIS, BOTH of you!

Both Nadir and Constantino stepped forward, prepared to defend Erik.

Christina stood in front of Raoul, shouting, "ENOUGH! Stop it! This is madness!"

"Hah!" Raoul shouted, goading them. "It takes a woman to defend me against your array of attack?"

Christina whirled on Raoul, "Raoul, Shut up! I once thought I loved you. I was ready to spend the rest of my life with you. I trusted you with not only my life but with that of my Tante Dagmar. You have betrayed that trust and failed miserably to uphold it and honor it and me. I want nothing more to do with you. You are free of our engagement, free to go and find some frilly little girl who will be impressed with your posturing and your show of vanity. I AM NOT! Good-bye, Raoul de Chagny!" And she emphasized each syllable and spat it out as if it were the vilest thing she could ever call him.

Erik leaned toward Nadir while still watching Raoul, "What are we to do with this peacock strutting around here and pretending to be a man?"

"We certainly don't want to trust him with a horse…"

"You don't have to. I'll just take one!" and he tried to pull Cesár out of his stall, but Cesár refused to budge while Nadir and Erik stood and watched his hopeless antics with smug grins on their faces.

"Come on, you worthless piece of dog meat! I'll show you who's boss!" and he grabbed a buggy whip off of the wall and turned to use it.

In a commanding voice, Erik called out, "You lay a hand on that horse and I will separate that hand from your body and feed it to you. Maybe I'll roast it first. What do you think, Daroga? Shall I roast the hand before cutting it off? or after?"

Raoul was frozen with terror, looking back and forth at them. _ What kind of fiends are these? he thought. Would they really do such a thing? _He took a step away from the horse. "You're just joking! You … You'd never do anything like that," his voice becoming tremulous and going up in pitch.

"Actually, we have just returned from Tehran," said Nadir in a conversational tone, "where Erik here was the shah's chief executioner and where he devised numerous painful tortures for those who had displeased the shah."

"Here's an idea," said Erik. "It seems I overheard you bragging that you knew how to use snowshoes. How about if you take a pair from the barn… and leave?"

"I… well, how did you know that? I was talking to Christina in English! And that was a private conversation!"

"English has never been a problem for me, Vicomte," Erik told him in English before reverting to French, "nor have any languages I have thus far encountered, nor have private conversations been an obstacle in my lifetime. So, is it a deal? You take the snowshoes and whatever you can carry and don't come back?"

"You can't be serious. I can't shoe all that way. I'll die!"

"It's only 10 kilometers. I distinctly heard you say you could shoe all the way to Genève and back!"

"Well, I may have over stated…"

Erik shrugged and said, with no little threat in his voice, "It's of no consequence. If it were up to me you would already be dead for attempting to violate her. You owe Christina your life."

Raoul glared at him, "I will get you, freak!"

Erik smiled evilly, "I sincerely hope that you try, fop."

"Are you coming with me, Christina? If I leave you here I won't be back for you."

"Then go and Farewell to you!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

Raoul looked around at each of them, including Christina before saying, "I'll go."

As soon as Raoul was gone, Erik collapsed.

**O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0oo0o0o0o0o0**

**AN: **Once again I must thank my beta and friend, Filhound, for all her help with these chapters. She has been immeasurable help to me with this story.

Read and Review, if you like.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

They took Erik into the bedroom where Nadir could feel that he was feverish and see that his wound was again bleeding. He opened his bandage and found that some of the stitches had come out and went right to work restitching his wound and repacking it while Christina made some rolls of snow packed into towels and packed them around him. She then brought a basin with cool water and a towel and wrung out the towel and draped it across his forehead. "Agh! That's cold!" and he reached up to remove it, but she caught his hand.

"Just rest, Erik. We're trying to bring your fever down."

"Fine," he answered her testily, "Then leave me alone!"

Several hours later he woke up, shivering . She removed the half melted snow bricks and with Nadir's help, covered him with a blanket that had been hanging near the fire to warm it, sliding the cool and damp one out from under it. "Ohh! That feels so g-good!" he chattered and reached out for her hand, but connected with Nadir's.

"Aww, Doostam! I didn't know you felt that way!" he quipped.

Erik opened his eyes and looked at Nadir, puzzled, before swiping his hand away. "What are you doing in here, trying to annoy me?"

"He's just helping me take care of you," said Christina softly, patting him gently on the shoulder.

He was like that through the rest of the day and into the night while Christina and Nadir stayed with him and Constantino kept them supplied with a steady stream of tea and little meat and cheese snacks. At times Erik would sleep for a little while before waking up again in pain or shivering or sweating and soaking the sheets. Sometimes, when he would become restless and was being bothered by nightmares of his childhood, she sang lullabies to him. He woke during one of them and looked around, asking, "Am I dead now?"

"Of course not, Erik. You were just having a nightmare."

"No," he insisted." I heard the angels singing, but of course, I would not hear angels where I am going, unless it was only to further torment me."

She giggled a bit, "Erik, that was me, singing to you. Rest now."

"Sing some more? It was beautiful."

So she sang and he drifted into a dreamless sleep with a smile on his face, thinking _This is likely the closest I will ever get to heaven…_

During one such lull Nadir approached Christina with a cup of tea and sat down near her with one of his own. "What will you do now? Do you have any relatives here in Switzerland?"

She looked away from Erik and studied her cup of tea, "No. There is nobody, not in Switzerland or in France, except for my Tante Dagmar who was left at an inn where we stayed after Raoul took us off the train. I don't even know where that was. I'll have to ask Raoul before he leaves. I would have to find my way home with her."

"That would be a very long journey for an unaccompanied woman. Perhaps Erik and I could see our way to escort you home?"

"Oh, I couldn't… you two have done so much for me already…"

"I think I should like to see this place called Sweden," he declared, "And I'm sure Erik would agree."

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

The next morning Raoul knocked at the bedroom door and asked to speak with Christina. Nadir accompanied her out to the parlor. Raoul scoffed at the Persian and looked at her, "What? You think you need a body guard around me now?"

Nadir looked at Christina who shook her head. "I'll be OK."

"You're sure?"

Sadly, she nodded her head, "Yes."

Nadir went back to the bedroom, but left the door open a bit.

Christina looked at Raoul, standing there with his high boots on and a heavy jacket, a large backpack waiting beside him on the floor. "So, you're leaving?"

Raoul looked back at her with longing in his eyes, "Yes, I am. But I still want you to come with me, come to Arles! We can plan our wedding there, just as we had wanted to. It's a beautiful place." He took her hand in his… "Come with me. You know, I do love you. You know that."

"Raoul, I'm sure you think you do, but what you feel isn't love, it's possession. I need more than an admiring sort of love. I need respect. I need…" She wasn't really sure what it was that she needed, but she knew she needed more than what Raoul seemed willing or able to give.

Raoul let go of her hand, "You think I don't know my own mind? I love you, Christina! But it would seem that that isn't enough for you! You need so much more. I can see that, and I don't know how to give it to you. I tried, but…" and his voice trailed off, sadly.

"I do care for you, Raoul, but not that way; as a sister, a friend perhaps. But not as a wife. You need someone who will love to appear at cotillions with her hand on your arm and be adored by all your friends. I am just not that kind of woman. I'm sorry. "

"You have no need to be sorry. I tried to mold you into a society wife. I still don't understand why any woman _(especially one so low born as you! he thought) _wouldn't be thrilled to be wedded to me. I guess it was bound to end in failure for some reason beyond my understanding."

They both nodded before she told him, "Do be careful on the slopes."

"I will."

She handed him a letter, "Could you send this to my father, to let him know that I'm alright? I know it's asking a lot of you, but…"

"I'll do it. Good-bye, Little Lottie."

"Good-bye, Raoul. And thank you for a very exciting adventure." She went to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Good-bye", then turned and re-entered the bedroom, closing the door behind her. She could hear Raoul closing the woodhouse door and putting on his snowshoes outside, then watched from the window as he rather clumsily shushed away.

"I hope he makes it." Nadir's voice at her shoulder startled her and she looked at him with her eyes filled with tears,

"So do I, Doostam."

He wrapped his arm around her and patted her on the shoulder, drawing her to himself where she broke down into tears.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

As Raoul shushed away from the house, he began to think,_ How could she do that to ME?! Take the side of that freak against me? He hardly even looked human and he was simple-minded to boot! I'd have gone in and strangled him in his sleep, except that Oriental , that Saracen guard of his was always on the lookout. And now they had one of the gypsies with them? Maybe they were all gypsies._

Raoul began to pay more attention to the terrain as it began to drop more precipitously. He did know how to snowshoe on gentle slopes and on the flat, but this was far from gentle. He tried to stick to the switch-backs of the roadway wherever it wasn't drifted over with eight feet of snow, or to sidestep down the slopes. This wasn't technically the proper way to use them, he knew, but it was usually safer.

_Just wait'll I get down to the village! I'll alert the gendarmes and we can storm that place and arrest the whole gang. They're probably wanted for something or other. Why else would they be holed up in a remote place like that? In fact, I'll just bet that the owner of that place is in league with them. Yeah. He's probably the leader of that whole pack of gypsies! Wait'll I tell the gendarmes that I have solved the mystery of the gypsy attacks in this area! They might even give me a medal!_

Raoul forgot to pay attention and started sliding down a moderate slope that grew sharply steeper and suddenly realized that he'd lost track of where the roadway was! He carefully brought himself to a shaky stop and sat down to assess the situation. Once he'd caught his breath he could see traces of the roadway about 200 yards to his left, so he started to get back up but his snowshoes started moving of themselves before he could get his legs under him and he began sliding, down slope of course, and there was nothing he could do to stop the movement. His momentum slowed a bit, just enough for him to get to his feet and that was when he heard – or rather felt – a sort of rumbling, a vibrating in his feet, and suddenly realized an avalanche was starting right under his feet. He tried shushing across it (_He'd heard that that was the way to get out of an avalanche: he didn't remember where he'd heard it, maybe it was from Christina? Must've been her. Who else would have such useless information stuffed into that empty head of hers_?).

He made it to the roadway but the snow kept pushing him farther and farther down slope, so he tried to ride it down. His shoes finally made contact with a hard surface and stopped moving. But the snow didn't stop and kept pushing him farther down the slope and he slid sideways until his snowshoes were no longer beneath him and he began tumbling, over and over down the hill until he hit something hard and stopped moving. He tried to get up but found he was on his knees with his feet criss-crossed behind him, the shoes still firmly attached to his boots, but now mostly buried in the snow. Most of his body was also buried in the snow. All that was exposed were his head and shoulders, and arms and the tips of his snowshoes. _Oh, isn't this a fine kettle of fish? How am I going to get out of this mess? I can't undo the bindings holding my feet to the shoes and I can't move the ssnowshoes under all this weight! My legs want to move! Maybe if I can wiggle them back and forth to take some of this pressure off of them they'll feel better?_

In the valley, dogs had been part of the winter gendarmerie corps for years, acting as part of the avalanche rescue teams. Dogs were bred to be able to smell human scent rising through the snow, then trained to dig out the person quickly, lick their faces to stimulate awareness and warm their flesh, and then to lie on top of them to conserve heat. The valley dogs began barking when the avalanche subsided, straining to get up onto the slopes. After being stuck for over an hour, Raoul had begun to doze off when he suddenly felt something wet on his face. He reached up and got a handful of fur. "Yaah!" He screamed, thinking he was being attacked by wild mountain dogs. He tried shooing them away but they continued digging around him while occasionally setting off a cacophony of barking. Soon Raoul could see a group of men coming toward him.

"Halp! Someone! Up Here!" He hollered, waving his arms in the air. "Ha-alp! –pht" and pushed away the dog trying to again lick his face. "Get off of me! Go away!"

As the men grew close enough to handle Raoul, one of them whistled and the dogs stood away from him, whining to be part of the rescue.

"Hello, Monsieur! Can we help you?" They asked, first in German, then in French.

Raoul replied in French, "I am the Vicomte de Chagny! Get me out of here!"

"Yes Monsieur," one of them replied. "Are you injured?"

"What? No! Of course not!"

"Then can you not simply crawl out of the snow?"

"I'm wearing snowshoes! I can't move my feet, you moron! How do you think I got here in the first place?"

Two of the men further down the slope put their heads together and murmured, "Obviously a novice. Didn't know enough to undo his bindings!" and they both shook their heads in agreement.

"How long have you been out today?" asked one of the rescuers.

"I don't really know… maybe an hour? maybe more?"

Now they all began to dig, including the dogs, to get Raoul released from the snowshoes before hypothermia set in. (It was well known that serious hypothermia began to set in after 40 minutes of being buried in the snow, although Raoul wasn't entirely buried. But he was immobilized.) It was only then that Raoul noticed that two more men had followed the others, pulling a sort of sled behind them. One of them left the sled and offered Raoul some hot coffee.

"Th-thank you," said Raoul reaching for the jug and noticed that his hand was seriously shaking. "Haha! Look at that! I'm sh-shak-ing!" The man helped him to hold the jug so he could drink and Raoul pulled back suddenly, spilling some of the coffee down his front. "That's HOT! I burned my tongue on it! What sort of nonsense is that? Why didn't you tell me it was so hot?" and he shoved the man away just before he passed out.

The men looked at each other and tested the coffee. "Barely warm," said one of them.

They got him strapped to the sled and slid him down to the village.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

It was three days before Erik came out of his delirium of fevers and chills, exhausted and hungry.

"It's about time you woke up, Doostam. We need to begin planning how to leave here. It may not be long before the owners return."

"I need to speak to you about that. I have been slowly becoming aware of something and feel that now I must tell you," he said, drinking some soup.

They all looked at him, waiting."

"Were you planning on telling us today, or are we to guess what this news might be?"

"Patience, Daroga." He finished his soup and walked to the back of the bedroom and opened a door that was hidden in the woodwork. The door led to a study/work room with walls of bookcases and a large work table that was mostly covered in blueprints and design sketches "I found this room during one my explorations of the house. I had an odd feeling that there was a room back here and found that there was. I sort of felt like I had dreamt that it was here. As I recall it now, I have often had dreams about this room, about the tall bookshelves and the large work surface… and of this:" Erik reached up to one of the shelves where a strange contraption lay. "I didn't understand it at first, until I remembered. This is a door latch, one that can fit inside a door. I found this lying on the work table and repaired it."

They all gave it a cursory inspection before Nadir said, "It is well known that you are clever with your hands, Doostam. I don't understand what you find so different about this device?"

"I repaired this when I was three years old."

**O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

**AN**: Huge thanks once again to Filhound for all of her help with this story! And thank you to the rest of my reviewers! I'm so glad that you are pleased with my ideas!

Read and Review, if you like!


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** I have been remiss in stating that I do not own Erik, Christina nor Nadir, or even Raoul. I don't even own Cesár, but all the other OC's are mine.

**Chapter 9**

In a back room at the Gendarmerie Office, Raoul slowly became aware of warm blankets and muffled noises and bright light. "Where am I?" he asked, looking around from the cot he was lying on. "Who are you?" he asked a man dressed in white standing nearby.

"I'm…" was all he got to say before Raoul sat up and cut him off.

"What the hell is this place? I am the Vicomte de Chagny! I demand to be taken to your finest accommodations! And I need to speak to a gendarme!"

"Yes, sir," the man replied. "How can I be of service?"

"Are you deaf? I said I want to speak to one of your gendarmes! (Incompetent peasants!)" he said under his breath.

"Yes, sir. What is it you wanted to say?" he asked, obviously trying to remain civil.

"Let me speak to the person in charge of this place!" grated Raoul, trying to hold on to his temper.

Presently, a somewhat shorter man, a bit chubby, with a graying moustache entered the room. "Yes, sir? Can I help you?" He was not wearing a uniform at all.

Raoul sighed in frustration, "I need to talk to the gendarme in charge of this post!"

"That would be me. I see you have recovered. Now, if you would just tell me what your problem is?"

Raoul thought, _This is what they call a post commander? Not even the discipline to put on a uniform? Very shoddy, if you ask me! "_I am the…"

"I know who you are. Now, you wanted to talk to me? I can give you a minute or two. I have another gentleman waiting whose home seems to have been broken into."

"Well, I'm sure you'll find that this is far more important! My fiancé and I were kidnapped and brought here…"

"Where exactly were you kidnapped, Sir?" he interrupted.

"I don't know. Somewhere between Lake Constance and here, what difference does it make? It happened down here."

"Where?"

"Just up the mountain from where you found me! Can't somebody get me some tea? And some of those little sandwiches with the crusts removed? I hate crusts."

The commander nodded to another officer who gave him a look that said_ 'Are you kidding me?'_ before he shooed him away with his hand. "Now, you were saying, you were kidnapped?"

"Yes. My fiancé and I…"

"Name, please?"

"How many times do I have to tell you, Vicomte de Chagny!"

The gendarme cleared his throat, "I was referring to your fiancé? She does have a name?"

"Don't you get smart with me! I pay your salary! … Her name is Christina Daae Oley-something. Anyway, they were holding us, up in their hideous shack up on the mountain and two others were already there, waiting, and they…"

"Did you happen to get any of their names?"

"Their…? One was Javert, one was Erik, I think. One was… oh I can't remember! They were gypsies, all except for Erik. He was a circus freak with half a face. And another was an oriental circus performer… "

"Excuse me?" An elderly, tall but well built gentleman spoke up from the doorway where he had been standing, unnoticed, "Did you say that the man with half a face, that his name was Erik?"

"That's what I said. What business is it of yours?"

"Oh, none really, just curious." and he left .

"Where is that tea? It doesn't take all day to make tea!"

"Um, I believe Louis stepped out to get you something to eat."

"Oh! Good. Where was I?" Raoul asked with exasperation. "Oh, yes, they were holding us captive and I managed to kill them - or most of them – and escaped, and came here."

"But where is your fiancé? Did you leave her there?"

"She decided to stay with them. The old man must have hypnotized her into staying, otherwise she never would have left me for that freak!"

"So they just let you go?"

"Yes! But I killed about a dozen of them first. And whoever owns that place must be the ring leader, so if we could mount an expedition we could arrest all those who are left and rescue my fiancé."

"Excuse me, Sir?" came a voice from the doorway where the gendarme called Louis was standing with a tray with a simple pot of tea and some cookies.

"Yes? Oh, Louis! Please! Bring it in for Monsieur le Vicomte."

"But that old man was so stupid." He chuckled mirthlessly, "He couldn't even speak French. Can you imagine that? The only language he could speak was some sort of gobble-de-gook and Swedish. He kept saying 'Baae, Baae' whenever anyone asked him anything. Well, anyone but Christina. Her he could understand! Can you imagine? How anyone can be so stupid that they only speak Swedish?"

Louis set the tray down next to Raoul , who turned, preparing to eat, then looked up, "What's this stuff? I ordered sandwiches and pastries!"

"Sorry, sir, the patisserie was closed for the day and all they had were these."

Raoul took a bite and spit it out and threw the rest across the room. "Bah! They aren't even fresh! I can't eat these! I'll eat at the hotel – you do have a good hotel in town?" he tasted the tea and made as if he were choking on it, "I hope they have a restaurant at the hotel. How far away is it?"

"It's just the other side of town. Not very far."

"Fine," said Raoul dismissively. "Just order a carriage and I'll wait here."

"As you wish," mumbled the commander and left to speak with the other gentleman. He turned back to Raoul, "One more question, Monsieur le Vicomte, are you French?"

"Yes. Vicomte de Chagny." Raoul was puzzled . Why would he have to ask whether he was French or Swiss? They were so close to the border here it hardly made any difference.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

"Monsieur Boivan, pardon me for keeping you waiting. We have another gentleman..."

Boivan was seated at a table with a cup of tea and waved him off, "Never mind. I heard, and let me apologize in the name of Frenchmen everywhere. I'm glad not all French nobles are like that fop you have in the next room. I am curious though about the location of this so-called 'hideout' that he mentioned. It sounds like we may be concerned with the same location."

"The same thought had occurred to me as well. You weren't expecting any visitors, were you?"

"Not at all," said Boivan, taking a sip of the tea. "We had just gone to my youngest son's wedding in Genève when that blizzard hit and stranded us there. Coming back, we noticed the smoke rising from both of the chimneys, which is why I stopped in to speak with you."

"Might I ask about your inquiry regarding the man named 'Erik'? What is your interest in him?"

"Oh, nothing, really. Just a thought. Many years ago I had a brother who lived in the area near Laroux. His oldest son had a terrible facial deformity, so terrible that they kept him sequestered for the most part. I later heard that he had either died or run away. I searched for him, but found no trace of him."

"Interesting. What sort of boy was he? Rebellious? Angry at being kept like that, I suppose?"

"Oh! Not at all!" he laughed. "He was very obedient, as I recall, and very mature for his age – you might even say 'gifted'. It's a shame I could not find him. I might even have worked out to adopt him myself!" He heaved a big sigh, "But that was many years ago and I'm sure there are many men with the name of Erik."

"With a deformed face?"

They exchanged thoughtful glances before Boivan broke the spell, saying, "Well, it's neither here nor there. The problem now seems to be getting up to my home without being detected by the remnants of that gypsy gang."

The commander had been writing, but put down his pen and put his hand to his chin, thinking. He walked to a map on the wall and studied it for a moment. "I'm told that the snow is not as bad on the west side of the mountain ridge. What do you think about taking horses up the west side of your little mountain and snowshoeing down to your home from there?"

"Hmm… ," he said joining the commander at the map. "Yes! That looks like it would work! When do we leave?"

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

When Raoul was led to a waiting sled in front of the police station, he became red in the face and turned on his heel, about to re-enter the station. He was stopped by an officer who pointed out, "Your conveyance is this way, Monsieur," and redirected him toward the sleigh.

"You have got to be kidding! I'll freeze in that contraption! Where is the carriage I ordered?"

"We don't use carriages here in snowy conditions. It's too dangerous."

"What do you mean 'dangerous'? Is not your carriage fully padded?"

"It's too dangerous for the _horses_. Now, if you'd rather walk, the hotel is only about a mile down the road… "

Raoul looked around, fuming with frustration, "Oh, never mind. Help me up here!"

"Yes, Sir." The gendarme looked askance at his commander who was watching out the window, along with Monsieur Boivan and the other gendarmes who had rescued Raoul.

The commander turned to his men, "Any of you believe any of that load of crap?"

"There were two men in unusual attire who were pulled out of that avalanche last week that nobody has yet identified," offered one of the men.

"I got a look at those snowshoes the gentleman had with him," explained Robért, "and they were definitely some of mine. I bought several pairs back in forty-eight when we visited a cousin in Paris. They were all the rage, having just been imported from England. The pieces your men brought back were from those snowshoes, or at least some just like them."

"I guess we'll see when we get up there," their commander told them. Let's get the horses ready. Wait!"

The commander suddenly broke away from the group and stepped outside, calling to the gendarme assisting Raoul, "One moment, Louis!" Both he and Raoul turned to look at him as he continued to approach them, "I was just wondering… Monsieur le Vicomte, would you be interested in joining us in an expedition up to that gypsy hideout? That is to say, are you up to the task?"

Louis and the Commander exchanged glances, Louis concerned, the commander reassuring.

"Well, yes I would, only…" Raoul stammered, "I haven't eaten anything…"

"I'll share my own lunch with you while we wait for the horses to be loaded up with our supplies. What do you say?"

Raoul looked from the commander to the men watching at the window. _If I say 'No', they'll mistakenly think me a coward; but if I say 'yes', when we get there they'll see things may not be quite as I had reported. But then again, who would they believe : me, a respected Vicomte? Or a bunch of low-lifes squatting in another's home? _"Yes! I think I'd like that. Thank you so much for the offer."

When Raoul stepped outside to use the privy, the commander told his men not to worry."If the vicomte was being truthful, we will release him. If he was not, we will simply arrest him and turn him over to the army."

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0oo

Everyone's eyes were glued to Erik as they attempted to process what he'd just told them. Erik's eyes danced as he watched each of them mulling over what he'd said. Constantino was puzzled that this mechanism would fit inside a door, for most of the doors he had ever seen were single planks fastened together. Christina was wondering why he had carried that odd mechanism all the way here with him? Or maybe she misunderstood and he had said that he had repaired one _similar_ to it when he was three years old? But three years old? Most three-year-olds can scarcely feed themselves. Or play with blocks. Nadir was wondering what Erik was trying not to tell them. He had been here before? When he was three years old? Why? Did he live nearby? Could this have been his home? Wouldn't he have recognized it if it were?

And so they waited.

"And there's more," he added, picking up some pieces of correspondence from the desk against the wall. "These letters ," and here he handed some to Nadir, "are addressed to a one Monsieur R. Boivan, in the French Department of Gex, so it would appear that we are in or near to the village of that name, and in France."

Nadir set the letters down on the desk and scanned the room with his practiced eye. "This room reminds me of… "and he looked sharply at Erik.

"I often dreamed of this room," Eric added dreamily, "and when I had the opportunity in Tehran…"

"You built it as part of your quarters in the palace!" finished Nadir.

Erik smiled and bowed to Nadir before he was sharply reminded of his wound and nearly pitched over on his head before Nadir caught him and eased him into a chair. "Well deduced, Daroga." He smiled weakly, holding his side.

Christina had turned pale and reached for a chair to sit down, "Mademoiselle? Are you ill?" asked Constantino as he rushed to her side.

"Raoul!" she mumbled. "Raoul! He thought we were in Switzerland! We're in France! He could be arrested!"

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

It was a long way to go, around to the other side of the mountain. The roads twisted and turned so often it was difficult to tell which way you were going at times, if not for the constant presence of the mountain. It may have only been 10 kilometers from the house to the village of Gex, but it was at least 40 K going around the back way. Forty K, roughly 25 miles, was not a bad trip in ideal conditions, but this was far from ideal. True, there wasn't as much snow as on the east face, but there was more ice here and their horses, though sure-footed, had to pick their way along the mountain tracks and partly obscured roadways. Toward evening they came to a small chalet that Louis said belonged to his cousin. Since his cousin was away in Genève, he said they were free to use it. His cousin had a cold storage area that was tunneled into the face of the mountain with the house built right up to the entrance. Louis brought out some sausage and cheese and onions and potatoes and in no time had whipped up a satisfying supper casserole for everyone. Robért topped it off with a bottle of cognac he had packed up with him. Raoul, surprisingly made no remarks about the meal, although he did say that the cognac was 'passable'. They turned in early, partly because they were fatigued from the climb and partly to put an end to Raoul's incessant stream of boasts about his family's holdings, speaking as if they were his own personal accomplishments.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Early the next morning Nadir was in the barn tending to Javert when he caught movement in the corner of his eye. He whirled and caught the intruder and pinned him in a choke hold before asking, "Who are you?"

The intruder choked out, "Police".

Nadir released him but grabbed his arm and twisted it behind him. "Why are you sneaking around here?"

"Looking for gypsies." Nadir finally released him and indicated Javert.

"This is the only gypsy still alive here. This is Javert, and you're welcome to him. I'm sick of having to take care of such a pig."

Javert grinned and laughed greedily, thinking he would now be free..

Nadir took a step back and bowed, "Nadir Kahn, late of the imperial guard of the shah of Persia. Salaam."

The gendarme extended his hand, "Pierre St-Jeanne, Sergeant, of the Gex Gendarmerie. 'Persia', you say?"

"As they say, it's a long story." He shook Pierre's hand with a grin and ushered him into the house.

"Hey! What about me?" called Javert.

Pierre called over his shoulder, "You don't look like you're going anywhere."

O0o0o0o0o00o0o0o0o

Christina was preparing a small breakfast, now that the gypsies had been dispatched and Raoul had headed down to the valley there wasn't nearly as much preparation required. Erik was up, but sitting in one of the parlor easy chairs wearing the robe he'd found on that first night and wrapped in a blanket when the front door burst open and three gendarmes entered the house with their muskets aimed at the various occupants. "Stay where you are!"

Constantino immediately ducked behind the sofa, Christina accidentally spilled pancake batter onto the stove's cooktop, and Erik looked up, scowling. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

Just then Raoul burst into the room, shouting, "See? I told you! There's the circus freak!" he said, pointing at Erik, "And there's my darling fiancé, being forced to slave for him," he added, pointing to Christina trying to scrape the batter off of the stove's hot surface.

"Raoul!" she screamed in surprise.

"Monsieur le Vicomte, let us take care of this, please!" ordered the commander, stepping into the room. "Put your guns down!"

Raoul went to Christina and made a show of rescuing her until she batted him away with the iron pancake turner she was using on the stove, "Get away from me! You traitor! How DARE you bring the gendarmes up here! You said you would go away and not come back! Get out! GET OUT OF HERE!" and she chased him out the door with the iron tool, striking him about the head with it.

After he'd stopped laughing, the commander turned to them and asked, "Who are you people and who is in charge here?"

Erik stood, gingerly, and said, "We were stranded by the storm and then snowed in, that would be my traveling companion and I," and he indicated Nadir entering through the woodhouse with Pierre, "Nadir. Then some gypsies who were also caught in the storm took over the house, along with their captives, the Vicomte, whom you apparently have met, and Christina Daae Oledotter, his fiancé. And we have been stranded here since. How did you get here?"

"We came up the back way," said the commander with a wink.

One of the gendarmes nudged Constantino out from behind the sofa with his musket. "Ah, and who would this be?", asked the commander. "Might this be the simpleton who cannot speak French?"

"N-no, Monsieur," he said hesitantly, looking from the commander to Erik. "My name is Constantino."

"We recently relieved the gypsies of his service. Constantino has been in servitude to them since the age of seven." Erik told them, then asked Nadir (in Farsi) "Is Javert still alive?"

"He is doing surprisingly well, Doostam," Nadir replied before turning to the commander and speaking in French, "Nadir Kahn, late commander of the imperial security forces for the shah of Persia, presently in exile." And bowed.

"Hmm," said the commander thoughtfully, "And I suppose this language you just used is what your companion here referred to as 'gobbledy-gook'?"

"It was Farsi, the language of the people of Persia."

He turned to Erik , "And you understood this, I see? Who are you? Might you be the 'simpleton' your companion referred to?" and he shot Raoul a withering glance.

Erik and Nadir chuckled, "It was a disguise of sorts to keep the gypsies from discovering my identity. You see, I became a deadly enemy of the one called Javert…"

"He's hanging out in the barn, Sir, in some sort of choking contraption," interjected Pierre.

.."when I escaped his capture and tried to kill him in the process, many years ago."

"You still haven't told me who you are. Are you ill?"

"No, Sir. Just injured… but recovering nicely, thank you. My name is Erik…"

"Can it be? Is it you?" asked another voice from behind the commander and Robért stepped forward and locked eyes with Erik: deep aqua eyes to deep aqua eyes.

"Monsieur Boivan, I presume?" asked Erik. "I wish to thank you for the use of your home. I had planned to leave you a note, along with compensation for our use of the premises and what we consumed of your stores."

"That would be very much appreciated, but I wonder, could you be Monsieur Erik Boivan?" asked Robért incredulously.

"The same," they both replied as their eyes cast over each other, evaluating, looking for signs of recognition.

"Constantino?" asked Erik, "Could you please bring that contraption I showed you earlier?" Constantino disappeared into the bedroom and returned with the door latch and gave it to Robért . "My parting gift to you the last time we met."

Robért slowly turned it over in his hand, "Ah-h, yes. So you've been in my workroom then?"

"Yes, in fact I have built one of my own just like it, in Tehran, in the palace."

"You built?"

"Erik was the imperial architect to the shah, as well as court magician and ventriloquist," Nadir pointed out. Erik shot him a cautionary glance before he continued, "He and I escaped Tehran together and are both now in exile from the shah."

The commander let out a sigh and turned to Raoul and shook his head, "So this is your '_simpleton'_?"

"Well, I… I _thought _that he, I mean, he …. "

"Christina and Nadir were the only ones who knew who I was," Erik told him, still with his eyes on Robért. "I would have been in too much danger to trust any of the others with that information."

"Others? How many others?"

Erik and Nadir exchanged glances, "I helped to set off and direct a small avalanche to trap two who were trying to escape," Nadir told them."I saw that you had recovered their bodies a few days ago."

"Unfortunately, four others died under various other, er, circumstances. But with Nadir's and Constantino's help we captured Javert and have him secured in the barn. The other bodies are buried in the snow in front of the house."

The commander cleared his throat and turned to Raoul, "And where are the twelve that you have reported to have killed?"

Raoul looked at the faces that had now turned to him and visibly shrank into the chair he had occupied, "I... Well, I may have…"

"Never mind." The commander turned to Christina and asked, "And what was your part in all of this?"

Christina set down the scraper she was using to clean the stove and told the commander all she could remember. When she'd told him her story, he asked her, "And, Mademoiselle Oledotter, can you tell me,in your best estimate, how many gypsies there were in the party that took you captive?"

She glared at Raoul, "SEVEN. There were seven of them, no more. Well, actually six who captured us, we met Javert on the way here."

"You don't seem to be being held here against your will?"

"Of course not. I am here by choice, I mean, I remained here by choice." She glanced at Erik. "Erik and Nadir have been more than honorable with me and protective of me during our stay, even though we had never met before this."

"And you have been communicating with Erik _… in Swedish_? Why Swedish, may I ask?"

"It is my native language! I am from Sweden."

"It was a language the gypsies could not understand." Erik informed them and began to wobble, reaching for the back of the chair. "May I sit down?" The commander indicated for him to sit. "Thank you," he said, Christine hurrying to his side to help him into the chair and covering his legs with the blanket. "I perceived that Christina " (and here he matched her loving, longing gaze) "was the most reliable person in their party, and when I detected that she spoke Swedish, it was only logical to communicate with her in that language." Here the commander exchanged glances with Pierre. "Though I'm afraid I took liberties by doing so, placing her in great danger, because in order to communicate with me they now had to go through Christina." She laid her hand on his shoulder as if to say that it was alright. "She showed remarkable courage and intelligence in following my lead and going through with the plan. I framed most of my communications in either Swedish or Farsi, so the gypsies would not understand and to give them the perception that I could not understand what they said, even though I could." He and Christina gazed at each other with eyes clearly filled with admiration for each other, both wishing these people would just go away and leave them alone. He wondered what it would be like to be alone with her? To feel her hands roving over his body, as he had when he'd been so ill, but to now be fully awake and aware of what was happening.

Christina hoped that he could see the longing in her eyes, the desire to stay here with him, to feel his arms wrapped around her, feel his kisses…

Just then the coffee pot began to boil over and Christina and Constantino hurried to tend to it.

"Would anyone like some breakfast?"

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	10. Chapter 10

**Thank you** so much to DonJuana18 for the lovely reviews! And to Filhound for helping me to see how to fill out the characters as well as keeping it historically accurate! What would I do without you two?

**Christina Chapter 10**

Robért grabbed an apron and asked Christina what he should do. She giggled and asked him , "How are you at cooking bacon?"

"Pretty fair, Mademoiselle!"

"Good. Then you're in charge of the bacon and I'll make the biscuits."

"Biscuits? Oh! Say! There's some new stuff in the pantry I've been meaning to try…"

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, "I know. Erik found it and used some of it already."

"Really? You mean the stuff from my friend in America? How did it work?"

"It was fine. Erik made dumplings with it. They were very good!"

"He made the dumplings? Will that man ever cease to impress me?" They both chuckled.

Christina smiled, thoughtfully, as she mixed the biscuit ingredients together, then asked, "Tell me about Erik?"

Robért fell silent for a moment before saying, "Not much to tell, really. I only met him once. I think he was around three. He wasn't treated very well at home, as I understand, kept in a back room of the house. I'd have never met him except his father, Charles, and I were working on a building project together – I'm an architect and he was a stone mason – and I needed him to look at some plans. Well Erik's mother was in the hospital having a hard time with a new baby, and Charles couldn't leave Erik by himself at home, so he brought the boy along. My wife and I were expecting him to be a hideous imbecile of a child, but he wasn't like that at all. Oh, he was hideously deformed, but he was no imbecile! In fact, he was only three years old, but he acted and spoke like a twelve- or fifteen-year-old! He could already speak French and German and was beginning to teach himself Greek. He was starting to read blueprints and was already a mechanical genius. He even copied some of my architectural drawings and made corrections on them! That boy was something else. I couldn't believe how they were treating him, worse than an animal…. But I was not the boy's father, or even grandfather. I did talk to Charles once, but less than a month after they were here, Charles was killed in an accident at the job site and I never heard anything more about Erik. The day after they were here I found that door latch on my work table, fixed. Oh, it was a simple enough mechanism for _me_, I just hadn't taken the time to work on it."

"What an awful childhood he must have had," Christina reflected, "and still such genius was showing through."

"I wanted to adopt him, but then he just disappeared. I am stunned that he somehow has survived. Can you tell me how he was injured?"

Christina told him what she had garnered of the incident before she announced, "Well, biscuits are going into the oven, how's the bacon doing? Ready for me to start the eggs?"

While Christina and Robért prepared breakfast, Constantino had helped Erik back into the bedroom and now was helping to set the table, and Nadir had taken the commander to the barn to introduce him to Javert.

Presently, Nadir and the commander came in through the wood house. The commander was telling Nadir, "I am impressed with the design of his rope configuration. You say this is his own design?"

"Mostly, but I believe he learned some of it while he was in the Punjab district of India. He is a very resourceful person."

"Yes, I can see that." He glanced over at Raoul who was bound and gagged and tied to a straight chair, looking daggers at anyone who even looked at him. "We'll be taking these two down to the station after breakfast. Would you care to accompany us? I would appreciate your assistance."

"I would insist on it, Commander," Nadir told him, leaning in conspiratorially. "Javert is not the sort of prisoner to be taken lightly."

"Very well."

Once breakfast was under way, Christina prepared a plate for Erik and took it to the bedroom.

Erik opened one eye and told her, "It's about time you left that uncle of mine and remembered me! First you woo a boy and then an elderly gentleman?" He said with a twinkle in his eye as he painfully sat up.

She removed his mask and caressed his damaged face briefly, "But he has far less personality than the one I have come to feed," she said with a smirk before tucking a napkin into the top edge of the blanket below his chin.

He studied her for a moment, searching her eyes, yearning to find more than he could reasonably hope for. "You do not fear this hideous gargoyle of a visage?"

"Of course not. I have told you, you remind me of my onkel who was mauled… "

" … by a bear, yes," he finished for her. "But he did not have feelings for you. Christina, I … I would like to ask … you … if… What are your plans, now that Raoul is no longer part of your life? Could you see your way, I mean… If you would have me… I can protect you and share my world with you… and learn better Swedish…"

Christina was laughing, giggling and crying all at the same time. "Erik, you are the … "

"Let me finish," he said putting a finger to her lips (and wishing it was his lips that were touching hers). "I will never be a vicomte. I am not of noble blood; my origins are far more humble than that. I can never attain to being of your class, and my face will never get better, but I can provide you with a very good life. I am a wealthy man, and… and I just can't bear the thought of you leaving here and returning to your home in Sweden, so far away from here… so far away… from me…" and his voice trailed off, ending in a choking sound.

"May I speak now?" she asked, wiping a tear from her eye, and when he nodded she said, "You, Erik, are the most amazing person I have ever met. You are more honorable than any of those empty-headed nobles I have been introduced to. You have a passion within you, a passion to exceed, to help people, to build, to achieve. According to Raoul," and Erik took a breath to protest, but she shook her head, "and he is right … I am a damaged woman in the eyes of society, thanks in part to Raoul. I have given up all hope and all desire of marrying into that society that would brand a woman for something completely beyond her control! I'm sure Papa would agree that while nobility can be bred, true nobility is not limited to the ruling classes. And I'm sure he would also agree that I have found my heart's overwhelming desire right here, in you. So If you really do…"

"Christina? I only hesitate because I have never dared to ask this of any woman before, could you see your way to … allow me to court you?" … he nervously looked in her eyes to see if he had asked the right thing, but her eyes were so filled with tears he couldn't tell. "Well, I'd like to ask you to marry me, but I don't know whether that would be proper?"

"Yes!" Christina cried, "Yes, Erik!" and she took his face in her hands and kissed him.

Startled at the contact, he pulled back, thinking, _This is even better than I ever imagined it!_ He studied her face, now wet with tears, thinking how very adorable she was, and kissed her back, then pressed the kiss further when he found she had opened her mouth to him and wrapped his arms around her, feeling her heartbeat and feeling everything about her pressing against him.

The door suddenly opened to Nadir standing in the doorway, a smirk on his face.

"Don't you ever knock, Daroga?"

"We were just wondering if you were finished with your dishes yet?"

They looked at the breakfast tray, still untouched.

"Looks like he didn't appreciate my bacon cooking skills!" joked Robért with a big grin, poking his head in the doorway as well.

"What have I told you about eaves-dropping on me, Persian? I might mistake you for another gypsy and skewer you through a crack in the door!"

Christina gasped before asking, "I thought you two were friends?"

They both grinned when a sudden commotion came from the stable and worked its way into the woodhouse, including the angry voice of a woman. "Uh-oh," quipped Robért with a wink, "I think your chaperone has arrived and just in the nick of time!"

Erik and Christina both looked at him, questioning, both blushing red, "Our What?"

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"Let me take your plate out to the kitchen and heat it up so I can feed you," Christina told him while trying to wiggle out of his embrace.

"Ah, but I would much rather feed you!" he said with an impish grin.

"Erik!" she exclaimed and swatted him playfully on the arm before turning red.

"Ahhh, now that's what I like to see, a rosy-cheeked maiden." She giggled and headed out to the kitchen, trying to hide her face… and came face-to-face with a portly, rosy-cheeked older woman.

"AGH!" they both exclaimed, nearly running into each other, "Who are you?"

Christina curtseyed as much as she could with a plate of food in her hands, "Christina Daae Oledotter, Madame." and she grinned bashfully and turned toward the kitchen to hide her blush.

"I am Madame Boivan, and this is my home! What are you doing here, might I ask?" and she turned to her husband, "Robért?"

Robért crossed the parlor in three long strides with arms extended toward his wife, "Welcome home, Mon Cheré! Come sit down and I'll make you some tea and…"

"I don't want tea! I want to know who these people are and what they are doing in our house!" she declared as he gently but firmly sat her down in one of the parlor's easy chairs, nodding his head.

"Yes, Dear. All in good time, Cheré. We just have a few surprise house guests staying with us for a little while. Do you remember Charles' and Madeline's oldest boy? The one who ran away?"

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While Christina was getting to know Madame Boivan, Nadir stayed to speak with Erik.

"Congratulations, Doostam! I am overjoyed that you have made this connection! I believe Christina to be a very good match for you!"

Erik tried not to smile but lost the battle and allowed a shy smile to appear. "She is a remarkable woman – correction: she is a remarkable _person_, Daroga. I only hope that I can be worthy of such a gift._"_

"Doostam, I have often wished that you could see yourself as I do: a young man with boundless energies, intelligence and talents. But beyond that, with a huge capacity for love that has scarcely been tapped. You have a great love to give to someone, and I feel that she is the one who can awaken that love in you. No man can live without love. They can exist, but allowing someone to show their love , to learn to share that love and watch it grow, that is the meaning of life!"

"Daroga…. I have never heard you wax so poetic. This is a new side of you I have never before witnessed. Perhaps you are unwell?"

"You may joke, Doostam, but it is a side that I have had no occasion to use before this. Treat her well, She is a real treasure. So are you. Learn to treasure yourself as you do her."

Erik considered this for a moment before telling him, "This is not what you came here to tell me." He looked over at Nadir's eyes expectantly, "Is it?" It was more of a statement of fact than a question.

"No, it is not. We are taking Javert and Raoul to the village jail," he told Erik and waited for the barrage he was sure would come.

"What would be the safest way to accomplish this, other than with him dead?"

"We cannot trust him to appear unconscious if we were to give him a potion. He is too good at faking."

Erik gave Nadir a mischievous look, "How about walk him down the mountain behind a horse? If he tries to get away, his body can be recovered in a week or so?"

"And we keep the Punjab in place around his neck… and walk the horse through deep snow. Yes, that might work. But we'll need to keep him and Raoul well separated. Raoul is foolish enough to think of Javert as a possible ally and try to free him."

"And one more thing, Doostam. You now have a woman in the house. I would suggest some more appropriate attire."

Erik looked up, puzzled.

"Your aunt has arrived, Doostam."

_My 'aunt'? Who might that be? Was Robért married? He looked down at his clothes, such as they were. He was still wearing the robe he had appropriated when he arrived. Beneath that was only the bandaging across his chest and a pair of his own sleep pants._

He reached for his mask and asked, "My saddle bags are under cover in the stable. Would you ask Christina to bring them here?" When Nadir shot him a look, he added, "I can hardly traverse the parlor in front of the lady dressed the way I am?"

"I don't see why not, if you insist on playing the part of an invalid?" _Playing the part? Malingering? Me? While it was enjoyable being cared for by Christina, I would never stoop to malingering! Would I?_

Erik called him something in Farsi that would not be appropriate to print, then grabbed his pillow and threw it at Nadir who ducked and the pillow went sailing out into the parlor, landing at the feet of Madame Boivan, who was just about to introduce herself to this new house guest.

Nadir bowed to her, "Begging your pardon, Madame, I was just about to join the gendarmes accompanying the prisoners down to the village lock-up." And he made a hasty retreat, closing the door.

Erik was still fuming when someone tapped on the door. "What do you want now, Persian? Have you not tormented me enough today?"

The door opened slowly and a kindly woman with graying chestnut-colored hair peeked in, "Is it safe to come in?"

Erik hastily covered himself up and slunk down under the covers, pulling them up to his neck. "Yes, Madam, it is indeed safe to enter, so long as you are not accompanied by that PERSIAN!"

She chuckled a bit, replying, "I assure you that I am not accompanied by anyone at all, Monsieur Erik, though if I'd known you were here I might have brought some chocolates with me."

_Chocolates! Madame Valérie! She used to meet with me in the park and bring chocolate candies! Their flavor and texture were so heavenly, never having tasted such a thing before that. The memory of those morsels has remained long after the fact. _"Madame Valérie? Can it be? Please! Do enter, and please forgive my manners. Madame, I owe you and Robért a great debt – which I fully intend to repay – for allowing us to occupy your home in your absence. It was an act of qismat that landed us in this place in the middle of a snowstorm." He fiddled with the edge of the sheet, trying to pull it up ever higher on his throat.

"Be that as it may, I understand that you have been seriously injured in a fight with that gypsy you have strung up in the barn. As it happens, I am a licensed nurse, do you mind if I have a look?"

Erik turned beet red and found himself speechless, clutching the edge of the sheet around his throat.

"I'm afraid that would be highly inappropriate. You're a woman and, um, uh, I was… I was just about to get dressed."

"Good! Then I can help after I've examined your wound…" and she was just reaching for the bed covers when there was a knock on the door and Christina entered with his warmed-up breakfast. She stopped in the doorway and nearly dropped the tray of food when she saw what appeared to be going on in the room.

"Erik? I brought… Excuse me?! Madame Boivan! What is going on here?"

Valérie looked from Christina to Erik and laughed. It wasn't a short, nervous sort of laugh, but the infectious kind that breathes joy into a room. "Oh, come on in, My Dear. I am a nurse and was just trying to get a look at Erik's wound, but he has suddenly grown quite shy since your departure. Perhaps you could give me some assistance?"

Christina again looked from Erik, sitting there on the bed, clutching the covers to his neck, to Valérie, attempting to wrest said covers from him. He looked so adorable, this fierce fighter and assassin, appearing both angry and frightened at the same time, she just wanted to give him a reassuring hug and kiss him. She started to giggle, but bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself, as Erik might think she was laughing at him. But she couldn't hide the adoring smile in her eyes as she set down the tray and approached the bed. "Of course."

Erik watched as she approached the bed and gracefully (She was so naturally and beautifully graceful!) perched herself on the edge of it. "Come on, Erik. She is, after all, a nurse. Think of this as a 'house call'." Erik was growing angry at being attacked, and by two women, no less. How was he to mount a defense against them? And concluded that he had none. He watched, horrified, as Christina slowly and gently removed the covers from his hand, exposing the bandaging around his chest; and more than that, exposing the many scars on his chest and back. Valerie visibly braced herself and forced her attention to his immediate wound. They could discuss his other scars at a later time. The large knife wound demanded her full attention right now. Gently, with a practiced hand, Valérie removed the bandaging to inspect the wound while Erik gazed into those liquid brown eyes and Christina began lightly caressing the part of his face not covered by the mask. I cannot deny this woman anything, he thought.

Without removing the stitches and opening the wound, she couldn't be entirely sure, but from the looks of it and from Erik's movements, it looked like the knife blade had slid against Erik's ribs diagonally and not penetrated between them, enough to damage his liver or lungs, with the exception of two points nearly beneath his arm where she could see that two small arteries had been cauterized. She pressed on several places away from his wound and was impressed with the toughness of the muscle wall. She could see that this toughness had likely contributed to preventing further penetration of the blade. Erik had been very lucky and whoever had stitched him up had done so expertly. "Impressive," was Valérie's diagnosis. "Who did this work?"

"The Persian you met briefly, as he skulked his way out. He has had to learn many skills as commander of the shah's security police."

"I see…" she said as she considered that information. "Well, he has done a top notch job and I see no need to make any adjustments. Let's get you wrapped back up again, young man. It looks like those stitches will need to remain in place for at least another week, maybe two. If he is not back by then, I would be happy to remove them for you."

"That won't be necessary. I can remove them myself when the time comes." When Valérie gave him a look, he added, "I have often found it necessary to be self-reliant."

She gave him a sympathetic look, "It is apparent that you have lived a very hard life, Erik."

They gazed at each other, each lost in their own thoughts, before Erik finally spoke, "What else can one expect from life with a hideous face like mine? My mother prepared me well for what was to come in the years ahead."

She placed her hand on his arm, "You have become a very strong person, Erik, but right now you look tired." She turned to Christina, "Christina? Is that soup I smell on the stove? Bring him some of the broth and maybe toast a slice of bread to go with it." She turned back to Erik, "You get some sleep, and we can talk later if you like." And smiled and squeezed his arm before finishing bandaging him up. By the time she was ready to leave, Christina was back with the broth and toast.

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	11. Chapter 11

Christina Ch 11

When Valérie exited the bedroom, she put her things down on the kitchen table and stood with her back to Robért. He could see by the way her shoulders shook that she was weeping, silently. He wrapped his arms around her and she shook her head, "Oh, Robért! That poor man! Our little Erik! What horrors he must have lived through!" She turned to face him. "His body so covered in scars! I have seen the drawings of torture victims shown us in our training classes, but never expected to actually see one, much less to know who he was!

"It's worse than the men we treated in the Crimea. Florence told me that she had seen worse, but I could hardly believe her, what with those poor men with limbs torn off and gaping holes in their bodies. But that was war, and this … this was deliberately done to him, by another human being!"

He held her close as she quietly wept, wiping away a tear or two of his own, "I know, my dear, I know. But he has become a very strong and respected person. And the fact that that Persian is so devoted to him and protects him so fiercely attests to his strength of character... He's an architect, did you know? Like me. I intend to ask him to join me here. I have more than enough work for the both of us, if he'll agree to it."

"If only we could have adopted him when he was little…" she began.

"Now, now. Let's not begin speculating on what might have been," he told her. "He is here, now, and is a grown man and in need of a place to call home. I have several places in mind, depending on his needs and desires."

She giggled, dabbing at her tears, "He will surely add a spark of life to our quiet corner of the world!"

"They both will, and if the Persian stays, him as well."

"The girl? What do you know of her? She seems quite nice."

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Nadir made a point to ride through the deepest snow he could find that Cesár could navigate, dragging Javert behind by the neck with his hands tied securely behind him. He kept an eye on the distance between him and the gendarmes ahead who were escorting the vicomte, making sure to stay well behind them with Javert, thus preventing any possible contact between the two prisoners.

It was mid-afternoon when Javert fell for the third time in the deep snow and did not get up. Nadir cautiously walked back to see what his problem was, knowing full well the many tricks a wily prisoner could use to effect an escape.

"Get up on your feet, prisoner, or you will be dragged the rest of the way!"

"My leg! I think it's broken!" he hollered.

"Is that so? And how, may I ask, did you accomplish that?"

"What's going on here? What's the problem?" asked the commander who rode back on his horse to confer with Nadir, annoyed at this interruption.

"He claims to have broken his leg, but I don't see how in this soft snow."

"Well, let's take a look. He certainly can't overpower the both of us if we go together?"

"Doostam, do not underestimate this man's evil intent and capacity for deception."

The commander gave Nadir a look, weighing what he was saying. _Was this man capable of making such an evaluation? After all, he was only a Persian and not a member of the Surete or anything_ _official. How much could he trust this man's judgment?_ After a moment he stepped toward Javert. They cautiously approached from opposite sides, circling him, watching. He did seem to be in a lot of pain, moaning and speaking unintelligibly – to them – in Romani, but watching them through slitted eyes. As soon as the commander got close enough, Javert jumped him and anchored the Punjab lasso around his neck. Nadir jumped him from behind and tried to get a neck hold on him, but the snow made him too slippery and Nadir was thrown off. In the process, the commander managed to get hold of Javert's knife and delivered a slash that freed his hand from the noose. Javert used the other end of the rope to loop around the commander's feet and upend him, his head striking an exposed rock, knocking him out. Javert grabbed the reins of the commander's horse and mounted and headed back the way they'd come. Nadir realized that he wouldn't be able to mount and outrun him in the snow, so he called Cesár and told him to return to Erik. Cesár's ears perked up at the name and he gave out a whinny and took off through the deep snow. The snow was deep, but Cesár's legs were longer and stronger than those of the small mountain horse of the commander, and of course he had no rider to carry, so he quickly out-distanced Javert.

Nadir waded through the snow to check on the commander and treated his head wound as best he could under the circumstances.

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Erik heard it first, the frantic whinnying of Cesár, and he was up and dressed in a flash, holding his side in pain while he grabbed his cloak, a knife and another Punjab lasso (he always had extras with him). There was no reason for Cesár to return unless something had happened, and for him to return without Nadir meant that Javert was loose – most likely on his way here. He ran into Christina, Valérie and Robért in the parlor.

All three had a jumble of questions for him, "What are you doing up? And dressed? Erik! Where are you going?"

But he had no time to answer them and simply told them , "Stay here and hide. Arm yourselves with whatever you can find! But stay hidden for as long as possible!"

When they tried to detain him and ask further questions, he told them sharply, "Just DO it!"

Erik returned to the bedroom and fluffed up pillows and covers to make it look as if he were in bed asleep when he heard Javert and hid in the room. He hoped he'd made it look good – for all their sakes. He needed to lure Javert into the room in order to jump him. He didn't have the strength to be able to confront Javert in a face-to-face fight; he glanced down and could already see red beginning to seep through the night shirt he had on. He didn't know how much longer he could stand up but he knew he had to try. He couldn't let that monster get Christina. _ Haha! _he thought. _ Just listen to me – Me! - calling him the monster! Well, it was true, but it was ironic, nevertheless._

As expected, Javert entered the house. Erik suddenly remembered Constantino who had gone to the barn to get hay for the horses. He hoped the boy would stay out there long enough for him to take care of Javert. He had been expecting something like this to happen. Javert was far too clever for the commander of a small, local gendarmerie to deal with. Looking through the partly open door, Erik could see Javert stealthily approaching the bedroom. To his horror, he could also see Christina not far behind him with a heavy iron skillet. _ Not now, Christina!_ he thought, _Not now! Go back!_

Javert slowly pushed open the bedroom door and squinted his eyes in the dim lighting, watching the figure curled up on the bed. Satisfied that his target was asleep for now, he began searching the rest of the house when he heard a light scuffling from the corner of the kitchen. He approached cautiously, then took a loaf of bread that had been left on the table where someone had been slicing it. He stepped back with it before tossing it near to where he'd heard the scuffling. Sure enough, Christina reached out for the loaf, catching it before it could fall to the floor. As she did, Javert jumped out and grabbed her wrist, causing her to scream and drop the loaf. Robért suddenly jumped out from his hiding place and wrapped an arm around Javert's neck, but Javert was able to smash his back against the corner of the wall, causing Robért to let go and fall to the floor. "Where is your protector, little lady? Has he finally died of his wounds that I inflicted?"

"No! He is sleeping. He was given a draft to make him sleep. See for yourself," she said jutting her jaw toward the bedroom.

_Smart girl! _Erik thought.

Javert shoved her into the room, "Wake him up!"

"I can't. He has taken a sleeping potion."

"Shake him, tell him to wake up!"

She sat on the side of the bed, careful not to dislodge any of the heaped bedding and pretended to shake him. _ If I shake this too hard, he'll know that Erik isn't here. I need to create a distraction for him. _She looked up and caught a glimpse of Erik partly concealed in a corner of the room. Erik quickly put his finger to his lips in the sign for silence before motioning her to go ahead and push on the bedding. Suddenly hearing Erik's voice coming from the pile of bedding startled her before she remembered that he could throw his voice.

She managed to cover her surprise when Erik's voice mumbled, "Go away!"

"Please, Erik, you must get up!" and she shook him again, but to no avail.

Javert called out, taunting, as he entered the bedroom, "Hey you! Devil's Child! Don't you want to watch as I take your woman? She looks to be a very fine morsel, too fine for a Devil's Freak like you! Hey!" and he reached for Erik, too late discovering that 'Erik' was only a pile of blankets. As Christina bit Javert's hand to get him to release her and rolled off the bed out of his reach, Erik's lasso found its way to his neck. Javert jabbed his elbow backward into Erik's wound and whirled to face him, causing Erik to let go of the lasso and begin to fall. Robért suddenly jumped in and grabbed the end of the lasso and jerked as hard as he could, watching the surprised look on Javert's face as his eyes rolled back in their sockets. Javert jerked on the rope, pulling Robért close enough to stab him when Erik grabbed the rope, saying, "Not this time, vermin!" and jerked it until he heard Javert's neck snap. He gave one more tug, just to make sure, before letting go and allowing him to fall to the floor.

Christina ran back into the room and caught Erik just as he began to stumble to the floor, "Erik!" She gently let him down to the floor, the red stain spreading across his chest and side, having soaked through the bandages. "Erik!"

He looked at her lovingly, "I'm sorry. Are you hurt?" She shook her head, 'no'. Then in a louder voice he asked, "Is anyone else hurt?"

Robért sat up from the floor, holding his arm, a short handled knife sticking out of it and blood dripping down over his hand. "Yeah. Me."

Valérie entered right behind her and pulled open Erik's shirt to see that part of his wound had been torn open by his exertions and Javert's elbow jab.

"Be quiet! You've ripped open more than half of your stitches and are losing blood…" She turned around to see Constantino stooping and reaching for Erik and asked "Who are you!?"

"I can help!" was all he said and he blithely lifted Erik up onto the bed, ignoring his yelp of pain. "I will get hot water, OK?" and he left without another word.

By the time Constantino had returned, the lamps had been lit and both Valérie and Christina were working on Erik. Robért, whose arm had been wrapped and was in a sling, was in the process of dragging Javert out of the room. Constantino stepped in to help Robért, telling him, "Let me do that." Robért gratefully sat down, watching the activity in the room. He had gained a new respect for this man, who the Persian called "Doostam", and needed to have a talk with him sometime soon. The way he had dispatched Javert looked to be a learned and well-practiced, almost automatic technique. He strongly suspected that Erik was much more than an architect. There was more to his story and he needed to find out what that was if he was going to ask Erik to join him in the business.

"AGH!", yelped Erik, You're worse than that Persian! AGH!" he yelped as Valérie applied pressure to the wound and began the restitching process in an attempt to once more stop the bleeding. She knew that Erik had already lost so much blood in the past few days that any additional blood loss could be dangerous.

Valérie shook her head and told him, "I'm sorry but it cannot be helped. Pressure is what it takes to stop blood from escaping the body. If you'd rather I can just let you bleed to death."

"I wouldn't suggest it to him… he might take you up on the offer!" Nadir quipped, appearing in the doorway, fairly dripping with snow and melting snow.

"Don't you ever knock, Persian?" And he grinned. "Glad to see that Javert didn't strangle your skinny neck first before coming after mine!"

"I had the common sense to get out of his way, unlike other people I know who prefer to make of themselves a target."

"What has become of our new friend, the commander?"

"He's nursing a good bump on the head but is continuing down to the village, escorting the vicomte, to get treated there."

"Are you almost through tormenting me here, Dear Tante? I am thirsty for some water and feel the need for some rest."

Christina picked up a glass of a concoction of Nadir's and sitting on the edge of the bed, raised Erik's head so he could drink. He smiled at her and took a gulp from the glass before reacting. "Blaah! What was that stuff? Are you trying to poison me?" And he looked, accusingly, from Nadir to Valérie, to Christina. "Can someone please get me some water?"

"I'll get it… Doostam, you complain more than my mother-in-law!" he called back over his shoulder.

"Your mother-in-law is dead, if you recall. She probably had good reason to complain if you were giving her this stuff!"

Valérie finished with Erik and stood up. "Now, you hear this: for the next week you do not leave this bed – for any reason. This activity today has torn the skin where the stitches were, necessitating deeper and more aggressive stitching. This must be allowed to heal. Is that understood? Erik? Do you hear me?" When there was no response, she turned to him, and found that he was asleep.

"Thank you, Madam!" said Nadir with a bow, having returned with a pitcher of water from the spring. "For the life of my friend, Thank you! Your work is more skilled than that of many other medical workers I have observed."

"Why, thank you, Monsieur, but it was no more than any other medical person would have done in the circumstances. Now, let's all get out of here and let the man sleep." She turned to Christina who was sitting on a chair next to the bed, "I'll leave the door open for you." And she left with the others.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o00o0

The next day, the gendarmerie commander, with a bandage wound around his head and a black eye, arrived to speak with Erik and Nadir.

"What is this about, Monsieur le Capitaine?" Robért asked him outside the door.

"Bon jour, Monsieur, I need to speak to them regarding their activities in regards to the bandit, Javert."

"I too need to ask them questions regarding the same thing. Would you mind if I join in on the discussion?"

"Not at all. You may have things to add, to clarify what happened." He indicated Robért's arm in the sling, "I see you too have been injured, sir?"

"Oh? Yes, well, it's just a scratch."

The commander took a step toward the door, then turned back to Robért and his expression grew dark. He looked at him hard before saying, "I'm sorry. I know that he's your nephew – or at least you believe him to be so. But his presence here is attracting too much violence. A face like his is a magnet for trouble. I think it would be wise to not become too attached to him."

"What? That is utter nonsense, sir! You speak of him as if he were a stray dog! The violence was not _caused_ by him, but rather he took care of it when it came. If Erik had not been here there would likely have been more deaths of innocent citizens and that girl would either have been enslaved by them or sold to the highest bidder! No, Sir! None of this was caused by Erik! And on his behalf I resent your implications!" Robért stood stiffly as if to bar the commander from entering the house.

He studied Robért for a minute before admitting, "Yes, I suppose you're right. All these goings-on have rattled my brain a bit I'm afraid. Shall we?" and he indicated the door and they entered the house with Robért still scowling.

Once they were all settled in the bedroom and had been supplied with some tea and pastries, the commander looked from Nadir to Erik, "I need to know who you are, and this time, please tell me the entire story, Messieurs."

"I have seen how the both of you reacted with Javert and Raoul, working with my gendarmes as if they were amateurs. Erik, your use of that choking thing was as efficient as a cat dispatching a mouse. I would very much like to ask you to stay and join our community… but first I need to know that you are not some sort of escaped felons. I need to know that I can trust you, both of you."

Nadir bowed to him, "Monsieur, please be assured that our intentions are entirely honorable, although our meeting was qismat. We left Persia under less than ideal circumstances and were in search of a place of refuge, a place where Erik and I might have peace to pursue our passions. Unfortunate circumstances had caused us to become among the ranks of Persia's secret security forces, both of us rising to the level of commander and under-commander in that force. "

"Unlike the western idea of rising to one's full potential," offered Erik, "in Persia one rises to the point where the shah begins to fear your power and has you executed. On top of that, the Shah-in-Shah had the desire to keep what had been created for him to be unmatched in all the world. I am an architect and was greatly respected and admired by the shah for my work on his new palace. But I had not understood that the only way to insure that this would remain the finest in the world would be to execute the creator once the work was finished."

"As commander of the imperial security forces, I had been given the order to execute Erik the night before we escaped. It was I who had introduced Erik to the shah and felt partly responsible for the situation he now found himself in. Over the years I had grown to consider him to be my friend and could not bear the thought of having to execute him."

"Before coming to Persia," Erik added, "I had spent some years in the Punjab region of India and had learned some of their renowned fighting skills, including the use of their Punjab lasso – the choking mechanism you witnessed. The shah discovered this and as part of the new palace I was building for him, he had me create dungeons and torture chambers in the bowels of the palace. As a curiosity and for his own enrichment, as he called it, I was ordered to show him how each device worked, using criminals as examples. Over time he ordered more and more entertaining ways of executing his enemies and I complied, understanding these men to be criminals worthy of their sentences. But increasingly, I began to realize that more and more of these so-called criminals were simply people to whom he owed money or whose property he wanted to seize, until one day I was ordered to execute a mother and child. I protested that these could not possibly be enemies of anyone. I was ordered to execute them or be executed myself. I obeyed, but that night Nadir came to me with a plan to escape and we left.

"I am not proud of what I was forced to do while there. I gained the moniker 'The Devil's Executioner' and I became the most feared man in the realm. The last thing the condemned would see before they died would be my unmasked face, causing them to believe that they were on their way to the nether regions in punishment for their crimes."

"But allow me to interject here, that for as long as I have known him, despite his appearance," added Nadir, "I have found Erik to be a most sensitive person, with a deep love for animals and flowers and music. I cannot admit to understanding his music, but I do find it soothing and elevating to the spirit. We came here in search of a place of refuge and were caught in the blizzard. I went to the village to procure some supplies for us while Erik searched in the night for a temporary place to stay during the coming hours of daylight."

"I came upon this place, seemingly deserted, and intended to wait out the storm in the stable with my horse, but something about the house called to me and so I uncharacteristically made use of what I found here." Erik turned toward Robért, "It felt odd to me that some things about the house seemed almost familiar, as if I had dreamed about them, and I wanted to investigate more.

"Before Nadir could find his way to me, the storm grew in intensity and I found myself stranded. During the night Javert arrived with his band of thieves and cut-throats with Raoul and Christina in tow. I immediately recognized Javert and knew I needed to disguise myself from him, so I took on the persona of a simpleton who could not speak any language that they could understand. I saw that I would need to kill Javert before he would discover the deception and kill me, but could not capture him outright without incurring the wrath of his followers, nor endangering the lives of Christina and the vicomte, so one by one I dispatched them, making each death appear to be an unfortunate accident."

"You speak of killing so casually. You sound like an assassin," observed the commander with a deep scowl, "I am not sure we want to harbor someone of that caliber in a civilized community."

"That was what the shah was making of him and I effected to rescue him from the shah's grasp, before he should lose his humanity completely."

"Appearing as I do, I have had to learn to defend myself and will kill only when there is no other choice… but there is almost always another choice. I assure you that my desire to escape Persia and the shah was because I was sick of all the killing and yearned for a more peaceful and civilized existence for once."

"With the adventure-filled life you have been leading," began the commander, "would it not be difficult for you to adjust to a quiet life in a settled community, such as ours?"

Erik told him, his voice filled with emotion, "Monsieur le Capitaine, I assure you that that is exactly what I have craved all of my life. My life until now has been one trial after another, from the day of my birth."

"I can attest to that, Monsieur le Capitaine," Robért offered. "My wife and I knew Erik up until he was three years old and knew of him until he was a year or so older than that. Even though he was treated poorly, he was never unruly or causing trouble. Rather, he kept himself to creative pursuits."

The commander considered this for a moment, then cleared his throat before turning back to Robért, "Anything more you'd like to add? Or ask?"

"Not really. They seem to have covered all the questions I had… well, except one…"and he turned to look at both of them, "What are your plans now? Do you have some idea of where you might be headed?"

"Well, I, for one, cannot travel for awhile," began Erik, "so while I am somewhat grounded here, I thought to maybe look around and get the feel of the place. I have never had a real family to be close to, and I was kind of hoping to maybe find a place near here. I understand there is a building boom going on right now in Genève, not too far from here. As an architect, I find that very tempting. I haven't done any investigating yet, but I am also hopeful that there might be an opera house, perhaps in Genève, where I might also offer my services."

The commander looked at Nadir and raised his eyebrows, "And you, Monsieur Khan, after having command of the shah's secret police, would a life of quietude suit your sensibilities? Do you have plans?"

Nadir exchanged glances with Erik, "Well, we do have one enterprise in common; I would like to find a farm, not too distant from here, with excellent grazing land and land where I can raise good quality lucerne."

"A farm?" asked Robért.

Erik saw the puzzled expression on both Robért's and the commander's faces and explained with a grin, "Nadir fancies himself a breeder of horses."

Nadir ignored the dig and hurried to explain, "Not just any horses, _Persian_ horses!" And his face lit up as he laid out his plan, "We have brought with us two of the shah's finest stock. The mare is already bred to Cesár's sire. If I can find a suitable mare to add to the line, I will breed her to Cesár, thereby creating a breeding pool with which to work!"

Robért leaned forward in his chair, resting his good elbow on the arm, "And where is this Cesár stallion?"

Erik and Nadir grinned at each other, "Out in your stable" Erik told him. "He's the one I rode all the way here from Tehran."

"The one who bites everyone he can reach?" asked Robért incredulously.

"The same. He is an inveterate beggar, for apples, now that he has discovered that there is a stash of them in the cellar!"

"Excuse me, gentlemen, but that sounds like horse thievery," remarked the commander, a bit sternly. "We have laws against that sort of thing, as I am sure you do as well in Persia."

"Not at all, Capitaine," Erik assured him. "The horse was a gift to me from the shah. Of course, he never imagined that I might leave his country and take the horse with me. But that was his unfortunate miscalculation."

"Hmm… If you were to stay," began the commander thoughtfully, "might you be available to assist me with criminal pursuits or investigations, on an as-needed basis of course? Possibly even as under-cover agents? No-one need know of your extracurricular activities on my behalf."

Nadir and Erik exchanged glances filled with worry before Nadir spoke, "Our ways may not be the same as yours, or even considered appropriate in your society. We would need to learn what is acceptable and in accordance with your laws."

"I would rather not enter another legal system that could escalate into something similar to the one we have just extricated ourselves from," added Erik. "But that said, since I am immobilized for the time being, perhaps you could find a way to furnish me with your books of law to study them, and relate to Nadir what they contain as it becomes pertinent?"

The commander leaned back in his chair and crossing his legs looked at him with an amused expression, "You want to _read_ the law books?"

"Of course. How else am I to learn?"

"Monsieur, some of them are not even in French!"

"Commander, if I may?" interjected Robért , "Erik was reading Greek at the age of three."

"I speak twelve languages, more or less, so your law books would not be likely to pose a problem."

_And this is the man, _thought the commander_, that that fop of a vicomte took to be a simpleton!_

Not long after there was a knock at the door and Valérie came to check on Erik, followed by Christina carrying a glass with more of the medicine in it, only to find him propped up with pillows. He was conferring with Robért over some building plans while the commander and Nadir looked over some maps spread across the foot of the bed. She shook her head at them, "My two wounded warriors! How are you feeling?"

"Good!" they both replied as Christina set down the glass, and began readjusting Erik's pillows.

"Well, it's time for Erik's medicine and a nap," announced Valérie, "So all of you, OUT! You can come back tomorrow if you like, but right now Erik needs to rest."

As Nadir and the commander began gathering up their maps and Robért the building plans, Erik looked to Christina mischievously and asked, "Are you going to nap with me this time?"

She swatted him on the arm, looking jokingly shocked and developing a rosy blush, "I don't think so, Monsieur!"

The commander started to leave but then turned back and said, "Oh, Mademoiselle Oledotter, might I have a word with you when you're done there?"

**O0o0o00o0o0o0o0o0o00o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

As always, a huge note of thanks to my Beta, Filhound, who has helped me with this FF immeasurably!

As always, please Read and review, if you like!


	12. Chapter 12

I haven't said it for awhile, so let me say here that I don't own Erik, or Christina or Nadir, not even Cesár, but I do own all the other OC's!

**Christina, Chapter 12**

Christina rearranged his pillows and straightened out the covers from their planning session and turned to leave.

"Leaving so soon?" Erik asked with a look of disappointment like a puppy being denied a treat.

"The commander asked for a word with me before he leaves. I'll be right back."

"Hurry back?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye.

She tilted her head with a questioning look, "I will." and was gone.

O0o0o0o00o0o0o0o0o0o0o00o0o0o0o0

She wondered what he could possibly want to know that she hadn't already told him? Or maybe he'd had word from her father? Excitedly she approached the kitchen table where the commander was seated with a cup of cocoa and another cup in front of an empty chair. He got up and pulled out the chair for her and gestured to it, "Please."

She sat and he pushed the chair in for her, "Thank you, Monsieur le Capitaine, what was it you wanted to see me about?" She only then noticed the cocoa, "For me?" and turned around to see Valérie at the stove with a saucepan with more cocoa, "Thank you!"

"I'll just take this in to Robért and Constantino. "and she left with the pan and two large mugs.

"Mademoiselle Oledotter," began the commander, "we've had word from your Madam Magnusson."

"Tante!" she exclaimed, spilling a bit of her cocoa on the table. "Where? How is she?" hastily cleaning up the spilled cocoa and wiping a tear from her eye at the same time.

"As you might imagine, there has been a problem with communications from that area, what with the war in the northern districts and then this blizzard that halted almost all travel and pulled down many communication wires… but she is safe and is very concerned about you. She has been in contact with your father and will arrive in a few days to take you back home."

Christina at first was overjoyed to hear that her tante was unharmed, but suddenly became quiet at mention of of her returning to Sweden. "Oh. Well, that's nice. Thank you so much, Monsieur." It seemed the decision of where to live was coming much sooner that she'd expected.

"She has asked me to convey to you to be prepared to return with her the following day as your father is waiting for you in Zurich."

"In Zurich! But … I… " _ What am I to tell him? I must meet with my father, of course, but how can I tell him I am not returning with him? And I cannot just leave Erik as he is… maybe I can convince Papa to stay here until Erik is able to travel? But that could be a month from now. And I can only imagine what Papa has been told about my impromptu excursion through Prussia, Switzerland and into France…_

"Mademoiselle, did you have a message you'd like for me to send to your father?" asked the commander, watching her carefully, waiting for any hint of deceitfulness or rebellion.

"Yes. Could you please tell him that I am unable to leave here at present and for as long as perhaps two weeks and invite him to visit Genève? And also please convey to him that all of my belongings have been stolen or have been shipped to the home of the Vicomte de Chagny in Arles. If you could please tell him that much, I would very much appreciate it."

"He will not be very happy with such a message, although I am sure he will be more than delighted to hear that you are safe. And I have more news for you. The Vicomte de Chagny is in custody of the Army of France until such time as they decide what to do with him." He watched for any reaction from her that might indicate that she regretted any of what she had previously told him, but she only looked more resolved, even relieved, at the news of his being in custody.

_He doesn't really deserve to be locked up in a jail, _she thought_, and yet it seems to be the only way they can keep him under control. How could he have changed so much that he has come to this? How could we have come to this? But he is where he needs to be, as am I._

"Thank you so much. I appreciate your taking the time to do all this on my behalf."

She finished her cocoa and got up to leave when he took hold of her wrist, "You're sure you don't want to come with me and say 'Good-bye' to your fiancé?"

She pulled her hand away and gave him a hard look, "I've told you, he is not my fiancé! I want nothing to do with him! You have my answer to my Tante Dagmar and a message for my father. Now, please leave!"

"You're pretty uppity for a fallen woman with no protector. Come on down to see the Vicomte off and we can go find your Tante…"

Erik entered the room and looked from one to the other, "I heard the shouting. Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing. The commander was just leaving!" she said, emphasizing the last word.

The commander looked from Christina to Erik before snatching up his hat and stalking out the door.

Christina turned to Erik suddenly realizing he was there "Erik! You shouldn't be up!" and she gently escorted him back into the bedroom. Once inside he turned and took her in his arms, "Christina, I am so sorry…"

And she pressed herself into his waiting arms. "I don't understand this! All I wanted was to send a message, but then even the commander… !" She pulled back and looked up at Erik as he wiped her tears, "Do I have a sign on me that says that I am free for the taking? How _dare_ he!"

"Come sit down for a moment, Christina. I need to ask you something."

She followed him and sat down on the edge of the bed, puzzled by his sudden change in demeanor. He seemed nervous and almost feverish, unsure of himself.

"Erik? Are you OK? Maybe you need to get back in bed. You know you shouldn't be up…"

He smiled and shook his head, placing a finger on her lips, "Hush now. I think I have a solution to many of your troubles right now." He leaned over as if he were about to fall and Christina turned, prepared to catch him when he righted himself on the floor with one knee bent under him and the other supporting him upright. "Christina, I asked once before, but not in a formal way, so…"

She looked at him with those huge brown eyes, now filled once more with tears and took in a sharp breath.

" I think it's about time to… " and he was fumbling around with a small wrapped paper package..." to ask you if you would do me the honor of being my wife? I know that I have an awful temper at times, and I have done some awful things in…mmmfff" The rest of his words were muffled by her kiss. He pulled away with as many tears in his own eyes as she had in hers and yet both of them were smiling like children on Christmas morning. He fumbled some more with the package and pulled out a glorious diamond and citrine ring and slid it onto her finger. "There. Now perhaps you won't be bothered by men thinking you are not spoken for!"

"Oh, Erik!" and she leaned over to kiss him but it made him lose his tenuous balance and they both toppled down to the floor, laughing.

"Ohh, oww!...haha! Ow!"

"Oh, Erik! I'm so sorry!...haha! Come on, let's get you up on the bed..." And she started to get to her feet before he pulled her back down.

"Let's just stay here…" and he kissed her and pulled her back down to the floor beside him as she returned his kiss. _Not only was this a good excuse to cuddle with her, but it was much easier than getting up again!_

"Erik, you can't stay here … on the floor… like this…" He was giving her playful kisses on the brow and on her face and neck in an increasingly hungry manner. She watched his eyes and they had been sparkling with mischief but soon turned to dark aqua, almost smoldering and though he was acting playfully, his expression was serious as he studied her lips. Soon Cristina could feel the fire rise as she returned his kisses with equal effort.

"(Kiss)… why not?... Hmm?" He pulled her to him and could feel her heart beating wildly and realized that his was beating in time with hers, the two creating their own symphony of ethereal melodies. He ran his hands down along her sides and back up again to her chin and kissed her neck and caused her to have gooseflesh from his touch. She was beautiful, and he could feel her flinch slightly whenever he passed his hand over an especially sensitive spot. His lips found hers once more and he kissed her deeply and passionately, as thrills began to run up his spine.

"Oh, Erik! You make me feel…"

"Like what?"

She returned his kiss with equal passion, feeling the heat of his body through his clothes and the pulsing of his veins and hearing the breath moving in and out of his lungs, and feeling the strong muscles of his chest, until she became aware of a bulge against her belly and looked at Erik with surprise before turning beet red. "Ohh! Erik…!"

He pulled her tight up against himself, reveling in the feeling of having her close like this, "I feel the same way … I have never felt such wonder before. I don't see how being together as husband and wife could possibly be more exquisite than this." He felt like he could stay like this forever. Every movement of her hips sent thrills tingling up his spine … and down again and ending at his groin, making his manhood stiffen even more, but too soon making it ache with increasing pressure. "Um, I think we had better get back up." He said softly, developing a blush of his own. "This may not have been the best thought-out idea."

She gave him a look of love and sympathy as she helped him up onto the bed and got him settled under the covers. "Are you OK?" she asked with a small grin. He grimaced as he settled himself into the bed once more.

"The only thing that would make me feel better right now is if you were under here with me," he said with eyes filled with love and yearning. "Your love for me is the most amazing thing that has ever happened to me. I have come to love you as well, Christina. You complete me."

"Erik, I can no longer imagine being married to any other man but you. I want to spend the rest of my life showing you how much I love you."

"Come here," he told her softly, extending his hand toward her, beckoning.

She hesitantly came over to him and he wrapped his arm around her, drawing her down onto the bed. "So, woman, where would you prefer to live – once we're married, I mean?" She was now sitting on the side of the bed with one of his arms encircling her waist. The strange feeling of the ring on her finger brought her to toy with it and to watch it sparkle in the light.

"Well, I hadn't given it much thought, really. I do like it here, well, maybe not _here_, but someplace nearby? I do like your Uncle and Aunt Boivan…" She leaned in to his hand as he drew circles across her back, "But I wouldn't want to totally abandon my family in Sweden. What about you? Where would you want to live?"

"Well," he began. "It would have to be someplace where we would have some seclusion, but not be entirely separated from civilization, someplace with lots of snow in the winter so you can teach me how to ski…"

"It would have to be someplace near an opera house," she added with a sly smile.

He looked up at her and grinned, "Yes, that would be nice, but not too close to the city...OW!"

"What is it?" she asked in alarm and turned to look at him.

"My neck!" he said with a grimace and looked at her to be sure she was watching him. "It hurts!"

"Where?" and she started rubbing on the side of his neck…

"A little lower… to the left… that's better…" as she continued to massage his neck. "Much better…. You know what? I think it's from craning my neck to speak with you…"

"Oh? Are you telling me to leave, Monsieur?"

"On the contrary," he murmured slyly, sliding over a bit on the bed, "Come here." And he patted the bed beside him.

"Are you sure? Wouldn't that be rather… scandalous?" she asked, making big cow eyes at him.

"Oh, I don't know … the door is open, and it isn't as if we haven't done this before," he said drawing her closer to him on the bed. "And it's so much easier for me to talk to you when you're so… very… close…, and I wanted to ask you something," he murmured, smelling her hair, thinking it smelled of roses.

"Um-hm?" She turned to look at him, not realizing his face was right next to hers.

He studied her for a minute before grinning and giving her a little kiss."Perfect!"

"Mm… Is your neck better now?"

"My what?" he murmured softly, gazing into those luscious eyes.

"Your neck. You said it hurt…"

"Oh that! Yes, yes it is better …thank you… now, where were we?"

"You said you wanted to ask me something."

"I did? Oh yes, I did, didn't I?… Sing for me? I do so love to hear you sing. Just a lullaby, in Swedish, if you like?"

And so she sang, and as she did, he began to hum along, and soon they were singing together in a very soft and simple harmony … and it wasn't long before he was singing by himself as she slept, curled up against him. _It was heaven having her curled up next to me, feeling her warmth and feeling her snuggled up, fitting perfectly against my side. I want this to go on forever._

When Valérie looked in to see why it had grown so quiet, Erik winked at her and signaled her to come over to his other side, whispering, "Could you please find a blanket for her?"

Valérie rolled her eyes and left to find a blanket. When she returned he told her, "She was so tired after all the excitement yesterday, she just … fell asleep!"

Valérie grinned slyly at him, saying, "Uh-huh."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Raoul was not about to let that freak have the last word. He might be under arrest in this little backwater gendarmerie, but he was, after all, a vicomte and that had to count for something. As soon as they reached the Gex police station he sent a wire to his father, telling him his version of recent events, including the fact that a circus freak had teamed up with some gypsies and kidnapped Christina. He also asked to be appointed to an army office posting, as he had been detained while attempting to reach his army unit, which he had unfortunately then missed. While writing his message to his father, he noticed another message lying on the desk, this one from someone called _Mon. le Comte de Ragnvaldsson_. _What an odd name. Certainly some foreigner. Wait! Could that be Christina's father? _He picked up the message and saw that it was indeed her father asking for information on her whereabouts. What an amazing stroke of good fortune! He quickly penned a message to him, informing him that they had been abducted and that she was currently being held by gypsies and circus freaks in a hideout shack near Genève. _That ought to get the ball rolling, _he thought. _Time to get that freak out of my way and get Christina back under my thumb, where she belonged!_

_O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o_

The next day, Erik and Robért had settled in Robért's workroom behind the bedroom where the light coming in through the tall window made working on projects easier. They were busy discussing variations to a home design that Erik was thinking of building for himself and Christina. He had three sites in mind where he might want to build, thanks to Robért's knowledge of the area, but couldn't decide on the style he wanted. He liked the chalet style because it looked a little Scandinavian (but that might have been simply because all homes built in the mountains had the same fundamental look for practicality purposes?), however, maybe the block design would be more functional? As each plan was put forward, Erik would quickly sketch what his vision of the home would look like and Robért would nod in approval.

"You are no help, Robért, you like them all! At this rate we shall have a host of home designs from which to chose and be no closer to making a decision!"

Robért threw his arm across Erik's shoulders, causing Erik to stiffen slightly, telling him, "It's your own fault, you know. You're just too talented and they are all very attractive, as well as practical!" protested Robért. "Perhaps we should ask the ladies for their opinion?"

Erik sighed, holding his side, "Well, we've tried everything else; why not? … No! Wait!" and Robért turned back from the door he'd been about to open. "I have one more idea," said Erik, again picking up his pen and he drew a home that looked like a tall chalet that was nestled into the side of the hill. "The cellar will be dug into the hillside, rather than under the house, and the stable will be accessed through the wood house, like yours is!"

"Hmm… that would require a site with an exposed but low cliff face. Let me think…"

"Yes. We wouldn't want there to be a chance of more of the cliff breaking off and falling onto the house!"

"I'm sure I have seen such a place. You finish your plans and I'll look through the maps again.

O0o0o0o0oo0o0o0o0o0oo0o0o0o

Zurich was a beautiful old city with its many old churches and the massive bahnhof in the center of the city. There were many shops with an international flavor as well as places outside of the city that felt almost like Sweden, if one closed their eyes for a moment and used their imagination. The many rivers converging in the city provided opportunities for long walks along their banks and tour boat rides in the warmer months to view the many historic edifices clustered along their shores.

But Oluf wasn't here as a tourist. He was here to rescue his daughter, his only daughter, his lovely, beautiful, wonderful, _innocent_ daughter, from what he had been told were a band of gypsies who had kidnapped her and her fiancé, although he questioned why. Why were they the only ones kidnapped? Surely there must have been others more wealthy among the passengers on that train? And why would gypsies attack an entire train of travelers in the first place? It seemed rather non-typical. And if they had kidnapped Christina and the vicomte, why let _him_ go? They could have held him for a large ransom, as well as Christina. And how had he gotten away from them? And why did he leave her there with a gang of gypsies? From what he knew of gypsies – which was of course not very much – they traveled from place to place, often in caravans, remaining in one place only for a short time. Why would they remain in a populated place like Genève? Was their leader injured and unable to travel? He wanted to seek out the gendarmerie nearest to this hideout to see what he knew of the situation, but the vicomte had said that he was in collusion with them.

It all sounded rather suspicious and he hoped a meeting with the boy's father would clear things up and provide some simple explanations for this strange affair. But in the mean time he had made some inquiries on his own and learned some disturbing facts. The Vicomte de Chagny was an officer in the army of France. France was presently at war with Prussia. Why, then, was the vicomte not with his unit? According to Dagmar, the vicomte had taken them off the train and begun traveling with them in a rather circuitous route through the high plain of Switzerland. Switzerland? In an attempt to reach his unit in Alsace? That seemed like an altogether peculiar choice of action to take at the start of winter in a strange land, with two women to make allowances for, and arrange accommodations for along the way? Especially after shipping their winter accessories to the south of France; on the whole, a fairly erratic way of thinking. If this vicomte had so little regard for his daughter's and sister's well-being and so little foresight in his journey plans… ; this was beginning to look as if the vicomte were trying to _avoid_ his unit and make for the family home in the south of France, thereby by-passing the war altogether. Maybe choosing him as his son-in-law was a mistake.

Maybe allowing the vicomte to travel with his daughter was another mistake, but there were two other people with them. There were the vicomte's man, oh what was his name – Hugh? Harry? – and his sister, Dagmar, but was that enough? At least she had been returned unharmed, unlike Henry, who had been killed. He didn't want to think about what he would do if Christina had come to any harm – ANY harm!

This whole affair had his stomach in a turmoil. If only Mama were here to help. She would have known what to do, she always did. _Maybe a nice glass of milk will help, _he thought. He pulled out his watch and saw that the person he was meeting wasn't due to arrive for another hour so he took himself down to the hotel bar and ordered a glass. That's one thing he could say for this country, they had good milk! Almost as good as home. And good cigars, too.

At long last a gentleman who had the look of a Comte entered the bar, scanning the tables. Dissatisfied, he was about to leave when Oluf stood up and asked ,"Monsieur le Comte de Chagny? Are you looking for someone from Sweden, by any chance?" Philippe hesitated when he saw the tall, gruff-looking gentleman. Oluf was well over six feet tall, with sandy blonde hair and a lush moustache that curled up slightly at the ends. He wore a heavy jacket with a red wool plaid vest with a gold watch chain draped across it. A short top hat and coat with a removable shawl collar were waiting on the chair nearest him.

"Monsieur le Comte de Ragnvaldsson? We meet at last!" The French Comte wore an overcoat on top of a dark blue suit with a gray and green ascot tie at the neck above an orange brocaded vest.

"Care to join me in a drink. Monsieur le Comte?", asked Oluf, raising his glass of milk.

Philippe smirked and said, "I have rather stronger tastes than that, Monsieur le Comte," and he turned to the barman and asked for a bottle of their finest cognac. Turning back to Oluf he told him, "and please call me Philippe; titles are too long and waste the breath."

Oluf laughed, "Yes, and are too long for foreigners to get their tongues around! You may call me Oluf."

"Thank you."

"Now, tell me, do you have any idea what all this nonsense is, about gypsies and circus freaks? I have received a message from your son saying that Christina is being held captive and on almost the same day I received a note from my daughter to come and visit Genève!"

Philippe scowled a bit while pouring himself some of the cognac, "That's strange. I was sent a message that my son had been arrested because he could not join up with his army unit before they deployed for the front. He said the reason he had missed his unit was because he had been detained by gypsies. "

"Yes, now that's the part I don't quite understand, why did they leave their train to begin with? And go wandering around on Switzerland's high plain? And if He could get away, why did he leave my daughter at the mercy of those vagabonds? What was he thinking?"

"I think it's time we paid a visit to the commander of the Gex police station, maybe get some answers from him!"

"Agreed. How do we travel? Horseback would be the fastest way, though perhaps not the most comfortable.?"

"Comfort be hanged!" roared Oluf. "We're talking about my daughter's safety! Even by horseback it could be four days before we arrive there!"

"Then I suggest we leave immediately. I have two horses and three men besides to accompany us waiting outside."

Oluf grinned, donning his coat and grabbing his hat and a walking cane before following Philippe to the door. "Good thinking, Monsieur!"

"My daughter set off from Uppsala with Raoul, her aunt and uncle and Raoul's man, heading for Paris. From what I gather, Raoul's man was killed, my brother-in-law had to return home with some stomach complaint, and my sister was captured and detained someplace south of Lake Constance, leaving Raoul in charge of my daughter – NOT a proper situation!"

"Hmm, yes, the younger generation does not seem to care to abide by social norms and proprieties. If any of this is true," speculated Philippe, "and Raoul and Christina are on their own hook, Raoul will not be able to take her as a wife."

"What?! After all this? Well, I'm not sure I would want my daughter married to such an irresponsible … _person_," he spat out.

"But you must surely understand that as Nobility, it is our duty to maintain the purity of our bloodline…"

"Purity of the bloodline be hanged! Nobility is not dictated by bloodline! But…" (he took a deep breath) "let's not be too hasty in our judgment until we ascertain the truth of the matter."

"Agreed! Then let's be off!" And the party of five headed for Genève at a brisk trot.

**O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

Read and Review if you like! And thank you to all the reviewers and followers and favoriters! You make this so exciting for me! And a HUGE THANK YOU to Filhound for all her help with timelines and European history! Thanks for keeping me on track!


	13. Chapter 13

Christina Chapter 13

Life was settling into a regular rhythm at the Boivan house. Erik and Robért were occupied either with building plans or horses, often exploring maps of promising properties, usually with Nadir acting as Erik's eyes for now. Erik would go to the stables and talk with Cesár, telling him that it wouldn't be long before they could go exploring themselves. Erik would walk along the mountain tracks for awhile until his side would begin to ache and he'd have to return to the house and rest. Christina could see that he was getting anxious to get his hands into some enterprise, but they couldn't make any solid plans until she heard from her father. It had been over a week since the commander had brought the message from him and she'd invited him to visit Genève. She too was anxious to begin some enterprise. She wanted to begin planning her wedding, but they needed to speak with her father before even setting a date. So she and Valérie exchanged recipes of their French and Swedish traditions – much to the delight of the men of the household. Sometimes either Erik or Nadir would surprise them with some different dish from the Orient.

One afternoon, Robért approached Erik with a mischievous expression on his face, "Erik? Would you please join me in the parlor? I think I have something that might be of interest to you."

"Yes? What is it?" he asked, turning from his sketching.

"You have to come and see for yourself," he told him, with a sly grin.

"Now?" he asked suspiciously.

"Now. Oh, come on!"

Erik reluctantly and a little stiffly rose from the desk and followed Robért to the parlor where a lovely music stand stood in the middle of the room. Erik looked at Robért with a puzzled expression before scanning the room until his eyes came to rest on a well-worn butternut colored leather violin case. Erik's heart skipped a beat when he recognized it as the case that had held the violin his father had often played in the cool evening of a hot summer day. He approached the case slowly before reverently bending to one knee and reaching to unlatch its clasps. Opening the case revealed a violin that looked like it had last been played only yesterday. He looked up at Robért and saw that both he and Valérie were grinning proudly.

"We had it restored. I remembered you playing when you were little and thought maybe you'd like to try your hand at it once again."

Erik looked up, a bit puzzled before his face cleared, "I smell the work of a Persian in this." And without turning his head his eyes picked up the smirking face of Nadir in the doorway. He bowed to Erik, who nodded in reply. "Thank you, all of you."

"Doostam, I regretted that we had to leave Tehran without your violin, a great loss indeed. This one may be a family keepsake, but its true value is in the playing."

Erik nodded his head toward Nadir, "And so it is, Daroga." He picked up the instrument, fondling it lovingly before nestling it beneath his chin and picking up the bow. He touched the bow to the string and the instrument emitted a sweet plaintive note. A slight shifting of the bow yielded another note and it wasn't long before the room was filled with the flowing and dancing strains coming from the old instrument as Erik coaxed note after note from it with his eyes closed, savoring each sound. For nearly an hour there was no sound in the house to interrupt the glorious music coming from the old violin. Sometimes the music would dance, sometimes it would laugh merrily, sometimes weep, but it was always beautiful.

When the music ended the house was silent, but looking around the room, Nadir could see that there wasn't a dry eye present. He began to applaud. Soon others joined him until the room erupted with joyous applause and congratulations, praising Erik for the beauty of his music. He stood with his head bowed before slowly and reverently replacing the violin in its case, covering it with a soft cloth, then loosening the tension on the bow and placing it into its box and closing the case. He turned and hugged Robért, thanking him, then hesitantly hugged Nadir, thanking him in Farsi. Finally he hugged Christina and entered the bedroom with one arm wrapped around her and the other around the violin, unable to stop the tears that insisted on falling from his eyes.

**O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

The sound of many horses roused the gendarmerie commander from studying the latest criminal complaints in the district. He and his men looked out the window to see the official-looking entourage and hurried to clean off the desks and to don their uniforms. He wondered what this was about? He didn't remember any notice of inspection or of visiting dignitaries, and yet here they were! He was gratified to see his men come smartly to attention when the visitors entered the office.

"Bon jour, Messieurs! How can I be of service to you?"

Philippe and Oluf looked at each other before Oluf gestured for Philippe to go first. "Monsieur le Capitaine, if you please, I am the Comte de Chagny and my companion is the Comte de Ragnvaldsson," and he glanced at Oluf to verify that he'd said it correctly. When Oluf nodded slightly he continued," We are here to gain some facts and clarification in the matter of the abduction of my son, the Vicomte de Chagny, and the Comte's daughter, Christina Daae Oledotter."

"Uh, of course, Gentlemen. Won't you have a seat?" he said gesturing toward some vacated chairs in the room. "Can I have one of my men get you some tea?"

"That would be very nice, Capitaine. Might I ask what you know of this affair? We have both been receiving conflicting reports of the events from my son, and just wanted to, well, clarify things."

"Excuse me, Gentlemen, but I want to know what's become of my daughter!" Oluf fairly roared, his voice echoing in the small stone building.

"Sir, allow me to report that your daughter is quite safe and is staying with an architect and his wife. This architect is of impeccable reputation , and his wife is a licensed nurse for the town besides." Oluf glanced to Philippe who shrugged his shoulders. This was new information and he wanted to know more. It seemed the more they learned about this the more questions they had. He then turned to the commander who put up his hands in the gesture asking them to wait.

"Patience, Gentleman, and all will be explained… ah! Louis, please bring in the tea. Thank you." When tea and pastries had been served, the commander began, "From what I have been able to learn your son," and he nodded to Philippe, "and your daughter," and he nodded to Oluf, were traveling by train from Lake Constance, in Switzerland, on their way to Genève, also in Switzerland."

"But why?" asked Oluf. "Why were they in Switzerland?"

"Perhaps Raoul was trying to get them to Arles where we have a summer home, and thus avoid the combatants around Paris?" offered Philippe.

"Hmm… and he was traveling through Switzerland to avoid his army unit," added Oluf with a huff.

"Sounds like the sort of thing my son would do. He has been asking for a transfer to a clerical position, which I have been reluctant to do. His mother pampers him too much so I enlisted him in the army hoping he would grow some backbone from the experience."

"But then for some reason known only to him, he took them off the train and decided to travel by carriage. We aren't sure where this took place, but it was near where there had been a train derailment…"

"A train derailment? My God, was Christina hurt?" asked Oluf sliding to the edge of his seat. "This is the first I have heard about something like this!"

The commander was again holding up his hands and shaking his head, "No, Monsieur, they were not on the train that derailed. It was the train in front of them. The passengers were taken to a hotel for the night and offered the next train, once the tracks had been cleared. But Raoul and his party did not board that train. Your sister, Madam Magnusson, told police at Fribourg that Raoul decided it would be faster to travel by carriage, so they did that for a few days until one night they were set upon at the home of a farmer who had opened up his home to the group. They killed Raoul's man, Hugh, and tied everyone else up, then left with Raoul and Christina. They were traveling in the mountains west of here when the blizzard hit and they took refuge in a house that appeared to be deserted. It was not. As luck would have it, another traveler had taken refuge in the same house. This other traveler managed to capture and dispatch the gypsies while freeing the captives, protecting them from harm."

"Hahaha! Well, he certainly didn't accomplish all that by himself. After all, my son was there to help as well!"

"Sir, by all accounts, your son did everything he could to thwart the traveler's efforts, to the extent of befriending the gypsy leader."

"By whose accounts! I say they are a liar!"

"By the account of the lady in question, Mademoiselle Christina Oledotter…. As well as by inconsistencies in his own account. The traveler was assisted, minimally, by a companion of his and by another captive of the gypsies whom he had liberated."

They thought about this for awhile, glancing at each other from time to time. "And what about the circus freaks mentioned by Raoul in his messages?" asked Oluf.

"That appears to have been Raoul's own fabrication to describe the traveler who has a facial deformity."

"And the Oriental circus performer?" asked the Comte, a frown growing deeper with each new revelation.

"I'm afraid that was another fabrication. It seems that the traveler and his companion have come from Persia where they had been part of the shah's security force."

Philippe stood, barely keeping rein on his temper. "I would like to see my son!"

The commander led him back to the prison cells and unlocked the cell block where Raoul was pacing angrily. When he saw the commander, he called out, "Hey! You two-bit excuse for a policeman! Have you even sent those letters I ordered you to send?"

"Yes, he did!" Philippe replied. "We received _both_ of your letters."

Raoul got an odd look on his face, "Both?" He tried to smile, but couldn't make it stick and began to look like a small child caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar. "Glad to see you too, Father! I knew those letters would get you to come and sort this all out. Hey you" he shouted to the commander, "Make-believe police man! Open up! My father is here!"

Philippe had grown red in the face and looked as if he would give Raoul a lashing if the cell door were opened. "How dare you!"

"But I don't understand?"

"How dare you address an officer of the law in such a disrespectful way! How dare you run roughshod with the truth! How dare you damage the reputation of an innocent young woman!"

"Father! She's only a Swedish whore! She doesn't mean anything to us! She can hardly speak French!"

"You have destroyed the reputation of a fine, upstanding and innocent young woman! You have made a fool of me for the last time, Raoul. From here you are going to a punishment brigade in the Foreign Legion to serve in the Army of Africa. Perhaps that will teach you to be a man for once!" and he turned on his heel and left, leaving Raoul calling to him to reconsider and threatening to tell his mother.

Philippe turned to the Commander, "He is not to send or receive any communications while here. I will see that he is transferred to a proper military prison unit within the week. Let me sincerely apologize to you for this inconvenience and for his horrendous breach of etiquette."

He rounded the corner only to come face-to-face with Oluf. "You heard?"

"I did," replied the tall Swede. "He is fortunate that he is your son. My son would not be able to sit for several months after receiving a very public and very humiliating walloping."

"Hmm… Well, let's go find your daughter." He turned to the commander, "Could you free one of your men to escort us up to the Boivan home? We'd like to retrieve the Swedish girl."

"I would be honored to take you myself, but I'm afraid bringing her back with you might be a problem."

"Oh? Explain", ordered Oluf gruffly.

The commander took a breath to begin speaking, then shook his head instead. "You'll see."

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Erik was so taken with the violin that he played it whenever he could, although he closed himself in the workroom when he played, so as not to disturb the other residents of the house more than necessary. But he couldn't leave it alone. It was so freeing to play it and hear the sweet sounds that it made. When he was again able he would have to make a trip in to Genève to find a store that sold sheet music and staff paper. Until then all he could do was to improvise or to play music that he had learned long ago.

And Robért could not wait for the weather to improve so Erik could play outdoors or in the barn and he could have his workroom back again.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Oluf stopped his horse, listening. "Stop!" he called to the others, "Stop!" They stopped and turned to see what the matter was. He put his finger to his lips, "Sh-h, listen!" Wafting on the breeze, they could occasionally hear wisps of music.

"What is that?" asked the commander.

"Sounds like a violin?" offered Philippe

"It's Vivaldi!" exclaimed Oluf. "But how do they get music to play up here?"

"I have no idea," said Philippe, urging his horse forward more slowly, "But it does sound beautiful."

"Perhaps Monsieur Boivan is entertaining someone from the Genève opera?"

"Well, I hate to interrupt such beautiful music, but I need to find my daughter!" and Oluf urged his horse up along the roadway. It was maddeningly slow going because they had to traverse the many switch-backs in the road due to the steepness of the ascent. Yet the closer they got to the house, the more beautiful and clear the sound of the violin became. Once they reached the house they stood outside for a few minutes just listening to it. When the music abruptly stopped, they looked at each other before dismounting and approaching the door.

"Monsieur Boivan?" called the commander, "Monsieur Boivan!"

Oluf tapped on the front door with his cane and Robért opened the door and looked at the group, finally recognizing the gendarmerie commander. "Ah! Monsieur le Capitaine! To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Gesturing toward Philippe and Oluf, the commander replied, "I have brought Monsieur le Comte de Chagny and Monsieur… "

"PAPA!" came a screech from just inside the door and Christina flew out and into her father's arms and began a rapid communication in Swedish. "What are you doing here? Why didn't you let me know you were coming? How are you? You're looking well."

"Hahaha, well, I guess we all know who this is!" remarked Robért. "Won't you please come inside?"

"First of all, I must ask about that amazing music we heard coming from the house…" asked Oluf as he entered the house.

"Oh, that would be my nephew, Erik. He's been staying here for a few weeks…"

"Papa, you have to meet him!" exclaimed Christina as she stretched out her hand to take his, Oluf noticed the expensive ring on her finger.

Gesturing to the ring he asked, "So you and Raoul are still engaged? Even though he is going away?"

"Oh, no, Papa." She quickly pulled her hand away. "We aren't, and this is not Raoul's ring… he never gave me a ring. Once we'd been left on our own he said he could no longer take me as a wife and only wanted to keep me as a mistress. He called me all sorts of awful things, Papa. But Erik protected me from him and from the gypsies who forced us to come here."

"Papa? This is Erik Boivan," she said gesturing toward the bedroom doorway.

He whipped around to see a tall, distinguished looking young man standing in the doorway. "Sorry! I didn't hear you come in! Umm pleased to meet you!"

"God dag! Trévligt att rå´kas." Erik said, extending his hand with a slight bow.

Christina grinned.

Oluf looked a bit perplexed before taking the proffered hand and replying, "Tak fur det, Du kan?… I mean, you speak Swedish?"

"Yes, I do, well, not terribly well, but passably. Your daughter has taken it upon herself to continue my education in that regard," he said with a small smile and pulling her tight against his side as they exchanged loving glances. "Your daughter is a most remarkable person, intelligent, resourceful, generous, courageous and principled. I have never met anyone quite like her." And he smiled as he saw the rosy blush again creeping up from her neck.

Oluf scanned the room, looking from Erik, to Lotte, to the gendarmerie commander, and finally to Philippe standing at the door. "Monsieur de Chagny, what do you make of all of this?"

Philippe let out a huge sigh before speaking, "It would seem that the younger generation has no appreciation for tradition. And for social graces." He stopped, thinking, and suddenly remembered that they hadn't finished introductions. "Beg your pardon, Monsieur, allow me to introduce Monsieur le Comte de Ragnvaldsson, from Uppsala, Sweden, and I am le Comte de Chagny, father of one very misbehaved son who will be spending the next several years in the Foreign Legion in Africa for his hand in this debacle, I'm sorry to say. Perhaps when he returns I will have a proper heir instead of the simpering peacock his mother has made of him." He bowed to Christina and Erik, "My most humble apologies for the idiotic actions of my idiot son. If there is any way I can make amends for his breach of conduct, please let me know."

Robért cleared his throat ,"And I am Monsieur Robért Boivan and welcome to my home. Excuse me, but maybe if we could all take a seat and Valérie? This is my wife, Valérie." (she curtsied) "Could you please bring some tea for our guests?" Valérie, who had been standing next to the door to the kitchen turned to prepare some tea and sent Constantino for some pastries from the village. "Hurry!" she called to him.

Without turning his head, Erik said in a loud voice, "Daroga, you may as well join us since this will likely concern you too. This is my friend from Persia, former Daroga, Nadir Khan."

Oluf looked around before noticing the Persian standing quietly in the corner of the room. Nadir smirked at Oluf and took a bow before getting a chair from the kitchen to sit on.

"And what, might I ask, is a 'droga?'" asked Oluf.

"Daroga," explained Nadir, "was my rank as chief of the shah's security force."

"One bit of irony about this whole event," added the commander, "is that Erik happened upon the home of his very uncle in the middle of a snowstorm and at night!"

"That must have taken some searching," reflected Philippe dryly.

"Begging your pardon, but I had not been here since I was three," Eric added with a slight smirk. "It took me over a week to realize where I was. It was purely happenstance. Qismat, as they say."

For over an hour the questions and explanations flew around the room before all had been satisfied.

"Just two more questions, Monsieur." He looked at the commander and asked, "Has anyone considered giving this man a reward for apprehending those murderers?"

Erik actually chuckled at that notion, thinking_, Give me an award for defending myself and some innocent travelers? That would be a first!_

"We are considering it right now, Monsieur."

"Well, see that you do. He deserves it. And Christina, when can you be ready to leave? I have brought some of your things from home and …"

Christina, in a very small voice, said, "No, Papa, I won't be coming home, not right now. Erik has asked me to marry him. I told him 'yes'."

Oluf scowled and scoffed at them, thinking, _What would her mother say, her out here with no chaperone, meeting men of questionable reputations? But it was the vicomte who brought this on, someone we trusted, someone with a good pedigree. Well, so much for pedigrees._

Christina reached for her father's hand, "Papa, while Raoul sat around and sulked, it was Erik who protected me from both Raoul and the band of gypsies."

"Hmph! That may well be… But he has no job, how will he provide for you?"

"Excuse me," interposed Robért, "Among his many talents, Erik is a highly skilled and recognized architect and I have asked him to join me in my business. There is enough work here for the both of us for more than our lifetimes. He has also given a sizeable endowment to the Grand Théâtre de Genève building fund and will be an anonymous contributor to the design for the new opera house."

"Excuse me," interposed Erik, "But I'm afraid your daughter's announcement is a bit premature." He looked at Oluf, carefully avoiding Christina's eyes which he could feel burning into him in horror. "I wonder if I might have a word with you? In private? We can use the bedroom." He gestured toward the bedroom and followed Oluf in.

"Monsieur, you are asking an awful lot for a wanderer with no prospects and not even a home! Christina comes from an unbroken line of what you French call 'Comtes' and but for Raoul's interference would have been married to a count! By all appearances, you are a poor substitute!"

"Monsieur le Comte, please be assured that I have nothing but your daughter's welfare in mind. I may not be a comte, or a prince for that matter, but I am a wealthy man. I have been working as the royal architect to the shah of Persia for the last six years and he has paid me very well. I have also been asked to assist in the design of the new Genève Opera House, and Robért has asked me to join his architectural firm. And I am currently building a home not far from here. As I said, I am a wealthy man and can afford to keep Christina in whatever style she pleases. I might even build a home for us in Uppsala for us for when we come to visit.

"But what's more to the point, I love her and will keep your daughter safe and well loved for the rest of my life. Doesn't that count more than my antecedents? And who knows maybe I have a Comte or two somewhere in my ancestry."

"Well…"

Oluf looked hard at Erik and Erik steeled himself for the inevitable question. With a curious frown, Oluf asked, "What is this thing you wear on your face?" and he reached to remove it but Erik blocked his hand as their eyes met and held each other's. _It always had to come to this – my hideous gargoyle of a face. What difference would it make how I looked if I were a fine, respectable nobleman? Well, I guess I am – all but the nobleman. But therein lay the difference. Being Noble by birth, you are assumed to be upright and well qualified. Being low-born you must prove your merit, over and over again. Throw my face into the mix and it's a constant uphill battle._

"It covers a facial deformity."

Their eyes held each other's gaze, neither willing to back down, until Erik took a breath, then another before saying, "But let me assure you, it is horrendous. I have been named 'Devil's Child', 'Devil's Executioner', 'Living Corpse', 'Nain' and many other names because of my face. I have worn the mask all my life to protect others from having to look at it. Including myself."

"Son, I am her father, and her mother isn't here to help me make these decisions, so I have to be very, very careful, because I have only one daughter, and only one chance to make this right."

"I would expect nothing less, Monsieur," stated Erik resolutely.

Erik stiffened as Oluf removed the mask, staring at the patterns in the carpet, unwilling to watch the reaction on Oluf's face. When there was no sound for several seconds he looked up to see Oluf openly studying his face. "Remarkable! Not entirely as hideous as you say, but altogether remarkable!"

Ten minutes later they emerged with their arms over one another's shoulders. Oluf had a big grin on his face while Erik looked a little worried, ashen. Nadir whispered something to Valerie before heading for the kitchen. Oluf turned to Erik and wrapped his arms around him, "Welcome to the family, young man!" and gave him a hearty squeeze.

**O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o00o**

**Translation: **

God dag! Trévligt att rå´kas! (Swedish) – Good Day! Pleased to meet you!

Tak fur det (Swedish) Thank you (Thanks for that)


	14. Chapter 14

**Hi, everyone!** Just want to say another 'Thank you" to all my readers and to my reviewers, and very special THANK YOU to my friend and Beta, Filhound who keeps me on track here!

Unfortunately, I still don't own Erik, Christina, Nadir, or even Cesár.

**Christina, Chapter 14**

It had been a long day for Erik. He had been for a walk for as long as he could before finding a place to sit and rest. This day he had taken Cesár with him for the companionship. "Just look at that view!" he told Cesár. "Can you imagine seeing that every day? Look at the way the scene changes as the clouds move across the valley below us, like clouds of cotton fluff sometimes obscuring, sometimes revealing features below. This will be a good place to live! And just wait until you see your new home! There is a large pasture to run in and perhaps by next winter a covered indoor exercise area as well! Would you like that?" Cesár whinnied and bobbed his head in response. "And Perhaps Nadir will bring by some girls for you to romp with! Eh?" Cesár whinnied and pranced as if eager to get to this place in Erik's mind. "Soon, my friend, soon. Well, we'd better get back before they come looking for us!" Returning to the house he had thought to rest, but the allure of the violin called out to him and he couldn't resist playing for awhile, having been inspired by the mountain vistas he had just seen. That is, until his side wouldn't allow him to continue. He put it away hoping to rest for awhile when unexpected visitors arrived: Christina's father! He quickly changed into a clean shirt and washed his face before joining the others. He was happy to meet Monsieur Ragnvaldsson and was impressed with his almost regal appearance. He was quite fit for a man of his age, tall and strongly built. He was dressed modestly, compared with Philippe and the way he had seen Raoul dress, who seemed to feel the need to keep up with the latest Paris fashions. Erik was glad to be able answer all his and Philippe's questions. What he was most pleased with was the opportunity to ask for Christina's hand in marriage. His acceptance was a hurdle that Erik was afraid might not be forthcoming. He hadn't told Christina but he had decided that he would abide by her father's decision, so she was justifiably disconcerted when he mildly chastised her for announcing their engagement before he'd had the chance to ask her father for his blessing.

Of course, Oluf had to see Erik's deformed face. It was his right as her father. But allowing a stranger to see him unmasked was always a stressful experience for Erik, to say the least, and as weakened as he was today, the experience left him drained. He was almost euphoric with fatigue when they rejoined the others to officially announce the engagement, but when Oluf spontaneously turned and gave him a bear-hug, the sudden pain and having the wind squeezed out of him was too much and he began to see black splotches in front of him. He reached for something to steady himself and caught the back of a chair at about the same time Christina reached him.

Christina and Valérie had been watching him grow more and more pale as the afternoon wore on, but were reluctant to interrupt the occasion. When the pair emerged from the bedroom, Christina hurried over to Erik and put her arm around him, seemingly as a loving gesture, but more in an effort to support him because she could see how wan he had grown. Nadir had surreptitiously gone to the kitchen to prepare a dose of the medicine he'd been giving to Erik.

"A little too much celebration?" joked Philippe with a chuckle.

"So it would seem!" added the commander.

Oluf turned, perplexed by this odd reaction from Erik and finally asked his daughter, "What is this? What happened? Is something wrong?"

"I'm sorry, " whispered Erik. "I should have told you…"

"Told me what?" he looked from Erik to his daughter to Valérie who had brought in a glass with some colored liquid in it and was helping Erik to drink.

"Papa," Christina told him softly, "Erik was injured in the fight with Javert, the gypsy leader. He managed to kill the bandit, but he was badly injured. I have been helping Valérie and Nadir to care for him."

Gingerly Erik sat himself up in the chair, pushing Nadir and Valérie away, "I'm OK, just got a little woozy there for a minute."

He looked at Oluf, "Remind me to return the favor when I am healed!"

Oluf roared with laughter at that, "And I will take you up on that, Son!" and he grew thoughtful, "I have always wanted a son, but sadly, it was not to be. Now, thanks to my lovely daughter, I will be gaining a son!"

"And I have always wondered what it would be like to have a loving father, to share an evening of chess with or to join me in music." At that Oluf laughed and nodded. "This will be a whole new experience for me," Erik reflected.

Christina sat on the arm of the chair, "Very new for me as well!" She placed her hand on his shoulder, causing him to cover her hand with his and smile lovingly toward her.

"Well, the next step is deciding on a date. Our home will be ready for occupancy in about four weeks, so any time after that will work," Erik said, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb.

"And of course, you are all invited to the wedding! Even you, Monsieur le Comte," declared Christina with a nod to Philippe.

"Why thank you for the gesture. I will have my secretary check my calendar once you send word of the date."

"You will use the village hall for your wedding, of course," added the commander. "All our weddings are held there. It's the only space large enough to hold everybody!"

Erik and Christina both began to turn pink before Erik hesitantly asked, "What do you mean, 'Everybody'?"

"Why, the whole town, of course! You don't think we'd let you celebrate your wedding alone? Not after the service you have done in ridding our roads of those brigands? Certainly not!"

Erik and Christina were still in shock from that announcement when Oluf cleared his throat, "Ah, I'm afraid I must insist that the wedding take place in a Lutheran church!"

"Oh, Papa! When is the last time you went to Sunday church service?"

"Well, I… let's see… when your mother died, of course…"

"That doesn't count and you know it."

"Well, but we are Lutherans! " he declared. He looked to Erik for help. "What about you?"

Erik looked from Oluf to Christina to Nadir, "I confess I haven't been in a church since I ran away from home, but I think we were Roman Catholic, at least there was a priest I can remember."

"Yes, we are Catholic, at least in name," offered Robért. "But there aren't any Lutheran churches anywhere around here."

"Begging your pardons. I am unfamiliar with either of your belief systems, but can only wonder if allowances are not sometimes made in your religions, for when circumstances will not permit full adherence to the laws of the church?" queried Nadir. "Would it not be permitted to have a civil ceremony now and a church ceremony when it becomes possible?"

They looked from one to the other, "That makes very good sense, Mister Khan," announced Oluf. "I think that would satisfy the situation!" He suddenly grew thoughtful, "But what would Mama say?"

"Mama would be happy that I have found the love of my life and that he has asked me to be his wife, Papa," she said, resting a hand on his arm.

"In that case I would not stands in your way," declared Oluf.

"Nadir? Can you be my best man?" asked Erik, unsteadily searching the room for him.

"I would be honored, Doostam," he said with a nod.

"But, Doostam, before you fall over, perhaps a softer landing spot could be arranged?"

Erik made a face as he unsteadily looked around for the source of the voice, but gave up on the notion, too tired to focus. "You and your potions have rendered me quite … incapacitated," as he tried to get to his feet and failed. He turned to Oluf, "You see? This is what comes of living with females and a Persian…" and they guided him into the bedroom.

Oluf turned to Robért, "Is he OK? He seems so… weak?"

"I'm told he'll be fine. He lost a lot of blood in the attack and needs to get his strength back. It's only been two weeks since it happened. He still has the stitches."

"Stitches? That bad?" queried Oluf.

"Yes, about thirty from what I'm told," offered Robért.

"Good heavens!"

"He's much improved from the first time I saw him!" said the commander, standing to leave. "Well, thank you, Robért, for your hospitality, and. You too, Constantino! Thank you for going for those delicious pastries!"

"Yes, thank you very much. I have received quite an education here today," added Oluf, also getting to his feet.

"Papa? Can you stay in Genève until the wedding? It's so nice to have you around, and I'd like for you to get to know Erik better," she said, taking his arm.

"In Genève?" asked the commander. "Why not in Gex? It's much closer."

"For that matter, why not just stay here? No sense having to chase around the mountains, and we have plenty of room!" offered Robert.

"No, I couldn't impose," said Oluf waving his hand. "Besides, I might like to do some exploring on my own, now that I've traveled all the way here! What's more, you folks will have your hands full what with Erik as he is and the wedding preparations. I'll look around Gex for a place to stay."

He paused and held her hand, studying the ring. "That is a very exquisite ring! Your husband-to-be has excellent taste."

As they had drawn near to Philippe waiting at the door, he also studied the ring, "Very elegant. Artistic. Not the gaudy sort of things Raoul usually gives to women. I can see the hand of an artist in it."

"I know," she said gazing at it lovingly. "Erik said that it was his own design. He sent the drawing with Nadir to have it made."

"You really do love him, my dear?"

"I do, Papa. I really do," she said dreamily, thinking of the time he gave her the ring, how he couldn't get it out of that simple paper wrapping he had it in.

"Oh! Papa!" she exclaimed suddenly," You have to send home for your violin if you are to play with Erik!"

"Have no fear, Little Lotte," he told her conspiratorially while mounting his horse. "I brought it with me!"

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

She found some sketches of houses in the workroom. Erik was sleeping soundly, poor man had worn himself out, and she was restless, so she'd let herself into the workroom, searching for something to read and found sketches of an amazing house. Three stories tall, nestled into a mountainside as if it were part of the mountain, with a conservatory on the middle level, along with a music room as part of it and a work room on the other side of it. The suite on the east side of the conservatory was simply labeled "K". A kitchen at the rear of the house backed onto the stone wall of the site with a door into a hewn cave in the mountain's rock face that would serve as a cellar and with a spiral staircase leading to a wine cellar below it. Some of the bedrooms were on the topmost floor, with one grand suites facing the front windows there and other bedroom suites behind. More rooms on the lower level had not yet identified. Part of the conservatory roof was glass protected by an overhang from the roof above. Both of the upper floors had balconies decorated with carved railings with heart cut-outs and colorfully painted designs.

Suddenly she became aware of Erik behind her, then felt his hands gently caress her shoulders. "What's this?" he asked softly, looking over her shoulder.

She bowed her head and began to blush, "I'm sorry. I was just looking for something to read and when I found these beautiful drawings, I couldn't resist looking at them." She turned around in his arms and looked up at him. For some reason he looked disappointed. "Where is it? It will be a beautiful home for someone!"

"It was supposed to be a surprise," he intoned softly.

She covered her mouth with her hands as if to stop the sudden intake of breath. "Oh, Erik! I'm sorry! I had no idea!"

"Robért and Nadir found it for us and I have been directing some renovations to the place to make it more comfortable for us and for Nadir."

"Nadir?"

"He will have the easternmost suite to accommodate his daily prayers."

"Oh, Erik! That is so sweet of you! You think of everything!" and she threw her arms around his neck and gave him a kiss before pulling back and reaching into her pocket. She grinned shyly as she pulled out a small package wrapped in paper. "Erik? … here!" and she handed him a gold ring.

"What's this for?" he asked, turning it over in his hand.

"Look inside." she prompted with a small smile

He did and noticed a date inscribed inside along with her name, then looked back at her, his eyes filled with questions

"It's the date we got engaged. It's for you to wear. Now. In our tradition you get this when I get this" and she gestured with her left hand."

"But yours doesn't have my name or the date inscribed." And he held out his hand for the ring. "I'll get it done tomorrow," and wrapped the ring in the same piece of paper and put it into his pocket."

She gave him another hug and kissed him.

"So, you like that idea that much?" And he kissed her back, pulling her tighter against him and savoring her scent. _He wanted her so badly; he wanted her like he wanted air to breathe and water to drink._

"Erik?" came the voice of Robért from the bedroom door. "Erik? Are you …? Oh! there you are," he said heading toward the work room. "I was just wondering if you were feeling up to joining us for a little supper? Nothing heavy, just some soup and fresh bread."

"I will be there as soon as I wash up. Thank you!"

"And Christina? If you could bring in some milk from the well outside? Thank you." Christina peeked out from her hiding place, checking to make sure the coast was clear before she and Erik looked at each other with surprise and giggled. Christina reached for Erik and encircled his waist with her arms until he flinched slightly.

"Sorry. I'd better go…" she said, not moving, absent-mindedly working her hands up across his solid chest, thrilled with the feel of this amazing man.

"Yes you had …" he replied with a husky voice filled with passion, gazing at her face, tensing as he felt her fingertips moving across his torso.

"Erik…"

"I feel that this is going to become harder as the time gets closer to our nuptials," he murmured, his voice still soft, his eyes still filled with yearning. Reluctantly he added, "Perhaps you should move in with your father? Because I am finding it increasingly difficult to keep my hands off of you, you little vixen!"

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Valérie could hear some subdued grunts coming from the bedroom. She knew Christina was cleaning the upstairs bedrooms, so she peeked in to see what was going on. Erik was sitting on the bed facing a chair from the kitchen with the dresser mirror propped on it, shirtless. He held a scissors in one hand and a pair of pliers in the other, intently clipping and removing his stitches. A kitchen towel lay in his lap to catch blood that oozed from where some of the stitches had been removed.

As Erik uttered an anguished groan through his teeth, Valérie stepped into the room. "Did it not occur to you that the pain and bleeding might be because it is too soon to remove them?"

Erik immediately drew the towel up to cover his chest, "Get Out! I didn't tell you to come in here! I can do this alone!"

"Erik," she soothed, "You're making it worse than it is. Here, let me help…" and she slowly took the scissors from him and the pliers and reached into the dresser where she'd been keeping implements and bandages for working on Erik and withdrew a pair of tweezers and a scissors with longer and narrower blades. She then reached into a small drawer and retrieved some balls of cotton, twisting part of one around a stick and dipping it into some cognac she'd poured into a cup. "This will soften the stitches, making them easier to cut," she explained, dabbing at a few of the stitches and waiting for the initial burning to subside. "You alright?" He just glared at her, gritting his teeth. "I'll take that as a 'yes'," and began to cut and then remove them. She looked up at him and saw that he was still tense, most likely bracing himself for the pain. "Erik, let me know if any of these hurt. If they do, they should not yet be removed."

"I want them out. They itch!"

She sighed, "Erik, if you take them out too soon, the scar will spread and become wider and more pronounced. Do you want to look like Frankenstein?"

He gave her a heated scowl. "Have you looked at me? Do you think I care about one more scar?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way…" _She felt awful. Looking at his many scars, it was apparent that he had led an impossibly difficult life. Some of the scars were deliberate burn marks, some knife wounds, while others looked to be from being whipped. No human being deserves to be treated in that way! And here she had verbally reminded him of all of it! _"I'm sorry," she repeated. "I wasn't thinking. It's just something I ask everyone who wants their stitches out too soon."

"Take them out – ALL of them! And have done with it!" he growled. So, despite his groans and moaning through his teeth and flinching, she removed them all, then applied a salve and bandaged it all up once again, adding extra padding where blood continued to seep out.

"You'll need to take it easy until that bleeding stops again."

He nodded and reached for his shirt. "Thank you, for doing that."

"I'm only glad that I could help in some way. Rest now." And she carried the soiled linens and implements out to the kitchen, closing the door behind her.

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A week later, word of the unexpected arrival of Onkel Claus and Tante Dagmar set Christina in a tizzy. Constantino had been in the village to buy some supplies for Erik when two strangers had asked him for directions to the Boivan estate.

He'd looked at them, perplexed, "Which one?"

They had conferred in Swedish before Dagmar replied, "Monsieur Robért Boivan."

"Oh! Umm…" He'd looked at the carriage they had arrived in, thinking about the snow still deep in places on the mountain roads. "Maybe better you go to the hotel and Robért come to see you?"

They conferred again before turning back to the young man, "We are here to speak with Christina Oledotter…"

A bright smile suddenly lit up his face, "Ah! Christina! Si! I will tell her, bring her to the hotel!" He turned to leave before turning back, "Who are you?" he asked as an afterthought.

Dagmar smiled, "Tell her 'Tante Dagmar'… umm… Where is the hotel?"

He showed them to the hotel before turning his horse and racing out of town. Less than an hour later, while Claus and Dagmar were still unpacking, Christina arrived with the same young man. Christina hugged them both before looking around at their suite. "Did you take the whole hotel?"

Dagmar laughed, "No, my dear. We took a suite large enough to include you. We thought you might like a place to prepare for your wedding, away from your young man. Madame Boivan explained the situation to us and said that you and your young man are inseparable and that it might be better for you to have some space to complete your preparations."

Christina looked from one to the other and blushed, smiling. "We have been discussing the same thing. This would be a perfect arrangement, although I do wish Erik were closer than miles away."

Dagmar wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close, "Lotte, soon you will be living together in your own home. But now it is time to prepare. We have brought the wedding dress that was your mother's, but you will need to buy shoes and other accessories. We will need to order flowers and other decorations. We need to visit the local patisserie and order a huge cake and arrange your trousseau, and tomorrow Valérie will arrive to take you shopping and Clause will go up to help Erik with the housel"

"But Onkel, how did you get here so quickly from Uppsala?"

"I came with Ole to keep him company as far as Zurich, then take Tante back home. But then we hear you were getting married and come here to keep _you_ company! Ja?"

"Ja!" she laughed, then stopped abruptly… But what of Erik? Did anyone tell him where I've gone?"

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Robért managed to find a young priest who was willing to perform an impromptu wedding ceremony. .. for a donation to the building fund to repair a damaged bell tower. After hearing Erik's story and that both the man requesting his services and this Erik were architects, he was eager to contribute his services and maybe get to know these men a little better. Perhaps the bell tower wasn't the only thing needing repair?

Meanwhile, Valérie arrived and she and Dagmar tucked and fitted Christina's mother's dress to fit her. "You are so much smaller than your Mama was, Christina, but I don't want to cut the fabric of the dress," complained Valérie.

"Here, let me show you," interposed Dagmar. "I was a seamstress in my younger days, although more of my work involved letting out seams and adding gores than taking them in!" Dagmar expertly pinned enough small darts all the way around the waistline and bust line, that soon the dress began looking like it had been made for Christina.

While Dagmar worked on the dress, Valérie took Christina to Genève to shop for accessories and a trousseau, and of course they brought home some pastries from the shop they had stopped in for tea. Christina also ordered several cakes, being careful to order one from each of the three patisseries in town, so that everyone who came might have some to take home with them, despite Valérie telling her that every family that came would be bringing food and deserts.

"Oh! It's beautiful!" Christina exclaimed when she tried on the dress once they'd returned home. The dress was high-cut all the way up to her throat and with a dark blue standing collar around her neck. It was made of semi-sheer cream-colored organza with lace and flowers across the bodice and down the arms and a pale blue apron that reached to several inches above the hem of the dress. It was a cross between the old traditional dress and the modern style. The shoes they had bought were traditional, practical black with a gold buckle on top. Her father had ordered a garland of sewn lace daisies for her to wear as a crown and Dagmar was in the process of adding green and white grosgrain ribbon streamers to the back and sides of it.

Christina could hardly believe it was her when she looked in the mirror. "It's so beautiful on you, Christina. You look so much like your Mama," said Dagmar, quickly wiping away a few tears. "Best take it off so I can finish the stitching."

"Thank you so much, Tante! And Valerie! I can't begin to say how much I appreciate what you are doing for me!" she said, giving each of them a hug.

"Nonsense!" declared Dagmar. "My Mama and aunt did it for me and you will do it for your daughters when they marry as well! We just keep passing it on."

She had just put her street clothes back on when there was a knock at the door. "Yes?" called out Valérie. "Who is it?"

"Oluf!" came the voice from the other side.

"Papa! Hello! What brings you here?" Christina asked, opening the door to let him in.

His eyes and voice betrayed his words, "Oh, I just stopped by to see my little girl! How are things going?"

"They're going very well, Papa… why did you come here? Is something wrong?"

"Umm… do you have everything you need?"

"Well, I think so… Tante? Tante? He, he, he," she giggled, "… it feels strange calling you both "Tante"!

"Are you sure?" and he looked hard at her, his eyes sad. "Come with me." He took her to her bedroom and sat her down on the bed before pulling up a chair for himself. He took both of her dainty hands into his large, long-fingered hands. She thought about the calluses on his fingers. Some of them looked fresh – _he'd been practicing!_

"Little Lotte, before your mother died we had a long talk about your future. As joyful of heart that I am to see you being wedded by such a fine young man, it saddens me that Mama couldn't be here to see it. But she did think about you and she gave me something that only she could give you." He opened her hand and dropped two coins into it: one gold and one silver. Christina immediately covered her mouth with her other hand as tears began to fall, unchecked.

"Oh, Papa!"

"You know what this is?"

She nodded, trying in vain to stop her tears. "Yes, Papa. The silver one is from you and goes in my left shoe; the gold one is from Mama and goes in my right shoe. Oh, Papa!" She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her head against his chest while he patted her back with one hand, wiping away a few tears of his own with the other.

"Mama wanted to be sure that you had everything you needed for your wedding day," he told her, his voice somewhat muffled against her shoulder.

"Thank you, Papa." She got up and placed the coins in her new shoes.

"One more thing," he said getting to his feet, "I've decided to move my things to the Boivan

home, so I can get to know your young man better."

"Papa…? Don't you go telling him stories about me! Papa? He can learn about me well enough after we're married. He doesn't need to hear stuff from you right now!"

Oluf got a stunned look on his face, as if he hadn't considered the notion, holding up his hands in defense as Christina began poking him with her finger to emphasize each point as she made it. Soon he was backing out the door into the living room, chuckling. "No! No! Who, me? I wouldn't! I swear it!"

Dagmar looked up at the two of them and scolded, "Ole? What have you been up to now?"

"Nothing! I swear it! All I did was tell her that I was moving up to the house."

She gave him a look that said, _Oh, brother! _and shook her head.

"I'm leaving, OK? I'm going… but I'll take one … or two!... of those pastries! I'm going!" He said, putting his hat on his head and grabbing his coat, not even waiting to put the coat on before ducking out the door.

The three women just stood there laughing until they had tears in their eyes.

**O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o00o00o0o0**

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	15. Chapter 15

**Thank you! **To all my reviewers! You give me courage to continue with this story!

Christina Chapter 15

Erik walked about 30 paces away from the house and stopped, thinking, then abruptly turned to look at it and shook his head. "No, no, no! The top rail is much too large for the lower one! It should be smaller to give the illusion of height!"

"But Erik, it would be dangerous to have it any smaller. It has to be large enough to provide a safety barrier for people standing there, no?"

Erik studied it longer, then nodded his head, "You're right of course. We'll have to take down the lower rail and re-do it, make it larger!"

"But we don't have the time for it!" Erik was speaking with Robért's construction expert, Jean Fouquet.

"How about…? Yes! How about if we make the uprights less massive, more delicate? Not enough to jeopardize safety, but enough to give the illusion of distance?"

"Yes… that might work! It will take a few days, but… yes! Do it!" and Fouquet hurried back to the house intending to order the workers to remove the upper balcony rail and shave down the upright posts.

"Wait!" Erik called. "Wait, Jean. Since we are shaving them down, how about splitting them and doubling their number? Or… shave them down and make more to add between them at angles. It could look like decoration, but actually be bracing them?"

"Yes! I like that! Much better!" and he set off to instruct the workmen, while Erik headed for the side door, stopping for a drink of water along the way. He had been pleased to find a good well of clean spring water not far from the house and enlarged it to conform to the style of the one Robért had, to make it easier to use. Inside the house, Erik watched as the large stone heater was being built in the gathering room. Covered in white tiles with designs in varying shades of blue, it would look stunning against the white-washed pine walls and floors.

"Doostam? We need to leave if we are to reach Genève by noon."

"Persian, can't it wait for a few minutes? Who put you in charge of my life anyhow?"

"If you'll recall, you did," Nadir replied quietly with a faint smirk. "Cesár is waiting."

Erik looked at him and relented, "So I did. Remind me next time not to," and he gave him a lopsided grin as he passed Nadir and clapped him on the back, then grabbed his coat and hat before striding out the door.

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Once they found the men's haberdashery in Genève that had been recommended to them by Robért, they explained to a salesman what they were looking for. "Ah!" he replied, "You are looking for wedding attire! How many are in the groom's party?"

"Two," Erik replied, wondering what that had to do with anything. "I am here to order a suit for a wedding for myself and one for my friend here. Do you have back wool?"

"Of course, we do," he replied a bit testily. The clerk was a rather short, slight man with dark balding hair and sideburns that seemed to make up for the lack of hair on top of his head. "I will bring you what we have." And he hurried away behind a curtain.

"You're wearing black for your wedding?" Nadir asked surprised.

"Of course. Black is formal, a wedding is formal. I am certainly not wearing multi-colored silk robes! I may have done so to please the shah, but he is not here; we are in France – well almost - so I will do what feels right in France."

"But, Doostam, all grooms wear a color to match the bride's gown, more or less."

"Your friend is correct, Monsieur. At least as a waistcoat and cravat in a matching color. That way, everyone knows who the groom is!"

Touching his hand to his mask he leaned toward the diminutive salesman, "Do you think I would be mistaken for anyone else?" he asked in his most threatening voice.

The clerk seemed to have only then noticed the mask and took a step back, "Uh, no Monsieur! Certainly not, Monsieur!" He cleared his throat, "So what is it you would like?"

Erik inspected the various bolts of wool that had been brought out, "Hmm, Nadir? What do you think?"

Nadir gave him a circumspect look before saying, "Well, if this is the best they have…" What he was thinking was that he knew almost nothing about dress wool suiting fabric, but he knew this game and played along.

"I assure you, Messieurs," the salesman hurried to explain, "This is the best that we have ever had! Merino wool, from Italy! Cashmere wool from Afghanistan! Feel how soft it is! Like a baby's blanket! And so thin and yet not stiff."

"Well…. alright… I would like a two-piece suit, the jacket in evening formal cut in the cashmere, with a black silk brocade waistcoat, and a silk brocade cravat in a pale blue. On the pants I would like to have a satin stripe down the outside seam. And I need it in two weeks. Can you do that?"

"Yes, sir! One week tops!"

"Good. Nadir? Are you going to wear one of these or will you wear a robe?"

Nadir thought about it. He would much prefer to wear his traditional robes. Perhaps he would compromise. "If there is still time after you finish Monsieur Boivan's attire, perhaps you could fashion a simple coat and pants for me? And a waistcoat in a solid black silk fabric."

"Yes, sir. There will be plenty of time for another suit."

"Oh! And I will also need a set of formal suspenders and a pale blue pocket kerchief to match the cravat," added Erik. "Could we see your silk fabrics, please?"

Once the fabrics were chosen and measurements taken, the pair turned to the front part of the establishment where Erik had seen some gloves. A different person came to help them, a woman.

"Good afternoon, Messieurs, can I be of assistance?" she asked hopefully.

"Yes, could I see some white kidskin gloves please?"

"Of course, Monsieur," and she pulled several pairs out of a drawer behind the counter.

Erik looked at them and asked, "Do you have any that are larger in size?"

"Larger?" she asked looking up. Erik had one glove on and the cuff came halfway down the back of his hand and no farther.

"Larger."

"Oh!" and she giggled , "No Monsieur, but I can make some for you." She slid a piece of paper toward him and a thin pencil. "If you could trace your hands?"

He had to turn the paper lengthwise in order to get his hand to fit before beginning to trace it, then took another piece of paper for his other hand. She labeled the sheets with his name and told him they would be ready in three days.

After several more stops they headed back home, munching on some chocolate candies Erik could not resist buying for Christina and Valérie. They made a brief stop at the hotel in Gex so Erik could deliver the chocolates – and a few kisses.

"Erik! You taste like chocolate!" she told him with a grin.

"I do?" he asked her with an impish grin. "I had hoped you would eat some first so you wouldn't notice!"

She swatted him on the arm and shoved him out the door before opening it again , "Thank you!" she said softly.

"Pardon me? I didn't quite hear that, Mademoiselle," he softly replied and took a step closer to her.

"I said, 'Thank you'," she said even softer.

He took another step closer, "I'm sorry, but I couldn't quite make that out..."

She reached out and grabbed him by the shirt collar, "Thank you!" and gave him a playful kiss.

"Oh! Is that what you said!" and they both giggled before kissing one more time and saying 'good night'."

When he caught up to Nadir, Nadir just grinned and shook his head.

Just as promised, a week later the suit was finished and ready for Erik go for a fitting. He again took Nadir along with him. Even Nadir was impressed that both suits fit perfectly. All that was left to do was to measure the sleeve and pants cuffs and hem them.

"Might I have your name, Monsieur?" asked Erik.

"Is something wrong?" asked the salesman rather timorously.

"No! Not at all, Monsieur. It is just that I am so impressed with your work that I would like to order more items from you."

"Oh! Well, in that case, my name is Jacob. And I am so pleased to be of service to you!"

"Yes, well, I would like to order two more black suits with frock coats in the Merino wool and one suit in a small herringbone pattern wool jacket and pants with a subtle stripe – in brown … these two fabrics I think?" he said showing Jacob two fabrics he had selected.

" Excellent choices, Monsieur, but I'm afraid… I don't think I could have them all ready for you in one week's time…!"

"You misunderstand," he said with a lopsided smile. "It was only the first suit that needed to be finished by this week. You may take your time with the others. I would also like to order two more waistcoats, maybe three. Do you have any suggestions?"

"Well, that would depend upon your occupation."

"I guess I will primarily be an architect, but there is a possibility that I could become affiliated with the Genève Opera."

"I would think one in red brocade and one in white brocade, perhaps a dark blue as well. How about something less formal, Monsieur? Perhaps a tweed or plaid? Herringbone?"

"Hmm. How about one in an off-white silk brocade, one in a beige plaid cashmere wool – this one I think ," he said picking out one from the sample bolts," – and one in a dark blue patterned silk brocade. What do you recommend for cravats, Jacob? Should I stick with black?"

"Well, that would be the safe way to go, but you might on occasion want something a little more, perhaps one to match each of the waistcoats? That way you could wear any of them with the black or with the matching waistcoat, or mix them up if you like."

They continued with their shopping before again stopping in Gex to deliver some chocolates and press Valérie to accompany them back to the house, telling her that Robért was growing restless having to endure life and the cooking of four bachelors - well, three, although Oluf had been living apart from his wife for so long he was beginning to feel like a bachelor as well.

One evening, Erik brought out his violin to play for Oluf. It wasn't long before Oluf brought out his own, a very old instrument with beautiful inlay work along the fingerboard, neck and tail piece and delicate painted designs on the top plate. Soon they were playing duets of Mozart and Vivaldi. After Erik had played one of his own compositions, Oluf began some Swedish folk songs. Erik quickly picked them up and soon they were playing counter melodies and harmonies. When Erik began to play some improvisations, Oluf just sat back and watched as his fingers flew across the strings, eliciting some of the most haunting melodies he had ever heard.

Erik stopped playing, suddenly aware that Oluf was no longer playing. He grinned with embarrassment, "Sorry. Didn't mean to steal your thunder. Guess I just got carried away…"

"Nonsense, boy! I have never heard such playing before. You should play with the Genève Orchestra!"

"I've been telling him that since the first time I heard him play," added Robért.

"Nobody wants to hear someone who looks like this," he said, pointing to his mask. "But I have thought about teaching."

"Once people hear you play, your appearance will mean nothing to them," Oluf emphasized this by gesturing with the violin, "THIS is what they care about, if they are worth caring about anything!"

"Don't you have an interview coming up with the Opera House?" asked Robért. "Take it along and impress them! Maybe they'll make you assistant conductor!"

"Maybe Doostam would rather do something else?" suggested Nadir.

"Who is Doostam?" asked Oluf, looking around the room. "Do you mean Erik?"

"Yes, I do. 'Doostam' is a word in my language that means 'dear friend'," said Nadir with a slight bow.

"What is it you would rather do, Erik?" asked Robért. "Surely not architecture."

"Well… I know I won't be able to do it for awhile, but I would like to compose, but that would require a piano and until we have a proper road built up to the house a piano will be out of the question. So, for now, I will create buildings and play my violin when I can and marry my sweet Christina!"

"Two more days, son!"

Erik looked at his future father-in-law with a shy grin, then to the floor as he could feel the heat rising from his neck.

Robért slapped him on the back with a chuckle, "Let's go for a ride. Nadir, you care to join us?"

"That would be nice, yes."

So the four of them set out across the mountain trails, pausing to watch the sun set over the distant western ranges near Mont Blanc , its mighty mountain massif casting its long shadow down into the valley around the distant Genève. The view was breathtaking. Erik turned to leave and caught a look at Nadir. "Daroga! What's wrong?"

Nadir hastily wiped the tears from his face, "Nothing, Doostam," he replied too quickly.

Erik drew closer to him, turning Cesár so they were facing each other. "What is it, Doostam? Homesick perhaps?"

They exchanged glances before Nadir nodded, his head low, "It reminds me of the mountains of Khour va Biabanak where I was born. It has been many years since I have seen them and I know they are not as massive as these, yet they are the mountains of my home."

Erik reached across to embrace Nadir. "You have traveled very far from your homeland, Doostam. You are a friend unlike any other I have ever known. I owe you my very life. I am honored to have you at my side right now."

"No, Doostam. It is I who am honored to be in your company and to see you wed. This has been my hope for you for many years."

"You're getting sentimental in your old age, Persian."

Erik started off at a trot, the rest of the party following, but before long he pulled up and dismounted and bent to inspect Cesár's hoof. As the other riders reached him he waved them on ahead, saying, "Go ahead. I'll be fine."

But Nadir refused to leave him. "After all, he will be the sire of our herd." He dismounted and came over to look at the foot, then stood up, his eyes filled with questions. "There is nothing wrong with Cesár. What kind of game is this?"

Erik got a sly grin on his face and told Nadir, "Come with me. I have something to show you."

They both mounted and were soon heading for Erik's new home.

"Erik? What is this? We were just here earlier today."

"Patience was never your strong suit, Daroga." And he urged Cesár on even faster.

Soon they arrived at the house to find a few soft lights glowing from inside an upstairs room. Erik glanced sidelong at Nadir, smirking at his quizzical expression as he led Nadir into the house, getting closer to the source of the glowing light. Soon Erik stopped in front of a door with a silly grin on his face. "Daroga, Doostam, I had planned on showing you this tomorrow, but I feel that you need it more tonight. I hope you enjoy this!" and he flung open the door, pulling aside the multi-colored silk curtain covering the doorway.

What greeted Nadir took his breath away. The walls were either painted or draped with colorful silks, and rugs from Persia. The bed, raised only a few inches above the floor was awash in silk- and tapestry-covered cushions of every shape, size and color. Two large incense burners stood near the center of the room near a low, ornately carved table surrounded with colorful floor cushions. The soft glow in the room was coming from lamps hung from the ceiling. Near the east windows, for the room faced east, the floor was covered with a thick rug large enough for three people to kneel on for prayers. The rest of the floors were covered in layers of Persian hand knotted rugs in brilliant colors.

Nadir wiped a tear from his eye before turning to Erik, "Did you think I needed a _harim_ to occupy my free time?"

Erik chuckled, "Did I over-do it that much?"

Nadir's chuckle caught in his throat. "Of course, you did, Doostam. Does Jacob have any silk remaining in his inventory? I might have to order him some from my suppliers," he quipped, wiping another tear from his eye. "Doostam, I have only asked you once before when we escaped from the shah. I would like to ask of you again now, would you like to join me in a prayer of thanksgiving?"

Erik was deeply moved. "I would be honored, Daroga, but I feel I would be intruding. By the way, the kitchen is fully functioning and stocked. Feel free to avail yourself of its contents. I will see you tomorrow." He paused a moment before adding, "I know this is a poor substitute for the mountains of Khour va Biabanak, but it's the best I could do."

Nadir pulled Erik into an embrace, "Thank you!"

"You are so very welcome. Good night."

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Erik entered the house and said 'Good night' to Robért and Valérie who were sharing some wine in the parlor, and went to his room. Something he hadn't told anyone was that he had begun having nightmares again and hadn't slept properly for the past four nights. It was too late for him to play his violin, so he took out some paper and pencil, intending to sketch, but when he turned up the light he saw a form wrapped up in one of the duvets, asleep on the bed. He looked closer and saw the all too familiar chestnut curls peeking out from the folds of the covers. He slowly knelt next to the bed and reached out to gently rest his hand on her, "Christina?"

"Go away! Leave me alone!" Erik pulled back, stunned.

He tried again, "Christina?"

She rolled away from him, saying, "Go away, Raoul! I don't want you here!"

Relieved to find that she was dreaming, he once more reached out to her and sang softly, "_Lotte, I love you. You are my very life_."

She mumbled softly, "Erik? Mmm, I love you too!" Suddenly she sat up and looked around to see Erik studying her with an amused expression on his face, mere inches from hers."AGH!" she screamed. "What are you doing here?"

He pulled back, amused, "I live here. What are you doing here?"

She looked around, confused, "What? I … Ohhh! Oh, Erik!" and she threw her arms around his neck.

He chuckled softly. "I had thoughts of visiting you as well. I've been having nightmares too." He got up and pulled a night shirt out of his wardrobe and handed it to Christina, "Here; you can wear this. I'll wait in the workroom until you are ready."

She took the proffered night shirt and headed for the bathroom, turning to tell him, "I've missed you."

"Me too," he replied, studying her face intently before giving her a soft kiss and then turning to the workroom and closing the door. He was thrilled that she was here, _but did she come by herself? He might have taken care of Javert and his gang, but there could be other bandits on the roads, or even wild animals that would spook a horse, or places where a horse might lose their footing, or_ …

A light rap on the door pulled him away from his worrying. "Erik?" she asked softly "It's OK for you to come out." She quickly wrapped up in the duvet and hopped onto the far side of the bed. Erik came out of the workroom dressed for bed in a pair of bed pants, a robe and slippers and ducked into the bathroom for a few minutes before approaching the bed. Christina heard him, but forced herself not to look, yet remembering his solid chest and his many scars, she easily imagined what he must be looking like as he tossed his robe over a chair and stepped out of his slippers and then nestled under the covers. She certainly didn't have to imagine his arm as it encircled her waist and pulled her close to him. Nor did she have to imagine his voice as it hummed in her ear.

"Mm, I have missed this. Are you warm enough? Let me get you another blanket."

She quickly buried her head in the duvet until she felt the weight of another blanket on top of her and felt the mattress sag slightly under the weight of Erik getting back into bed. "Thank you!" she told him, rolling over to face him once he was back under the covers. "I really couldn't sleep, I kept dreaming that Raoul had escaped and was coming to take me away to that horrid place…"

"Shush now, my little one. You're safe here in my arms. In two days we will be wed and Raoul will be powerless to take you anywhere without dire consequences! So hush now," He gave her a discrete little kiss before drifting off to sleep, holding her in his arms.

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The sun had just touched the very top of Mont Blanc, peeking up above the clouds that filled the valley, when Nadir's unmistakable voice called softly, "Doostam, I need to take her back."

"Persian, what is it now?" he started to reply testily before remembering Christina sleeping beside him. He looked at her, remembering, realizing that he had actually slept through the night, and all because of this beautiful and loving woman.

"Doostam!" Nadir's hushed voice was more urgent. "Oluf is an early riser. You don't want him to find her here."

Erik looked at her once more, then back at Nadir…"No. You're right. I'll take her …"

"You can't. There is no time for you to dress." Erik looked at him with sudden realization. "I will take her. Now. We must hurry."

Erik nodded and gently woke her up and explained that Nadir was taking her back to Gex before her father found her here. She sleepily nodded her head and walked to the bathroom to get dressed. When she came out Erik took her in his arms and kissed her, ignoring Nadir's urgent gestures to hurry up.

"One more day, my love. One more day and there will be none of this separation nonsense!"

Once more they kissed, both longing to remain where they were, but once more Nadir urged Christina, "Hurry and come along!"

The horses were already fed and saddled and were chuffing in the morning chill, their breath forming clouds of white in the entryway. The two riders mounted and were off before anyone else was up. Only Erik watched from the front door, dressed in his sleep pants and robe and slippers, standing in the dusting of new-fallen snow, forlornly wrapping his arms around himself, embracing nothing but the chill morning air.

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**Read and review, if you like!**

**Translation: harim is Farsi for 'harem' **(can also be spelled phonetically, 'hareem')


	16. Chapter 16

Thank you again for the wonderful reviews and follows and all! I am so glad that you enjoy reading this little story. And a huge Thank You to Filhound for keeping me on track and true to the history of the area!

I suppose I should add that I don't own Erik's coat either, since it is patterned after the one he wore in LND.

**Christina – Chapter 16**

The trunk from Arles had been delivered that morning and Christina couldn't wait to see what was still inside. She and Dagmar had packed it in such a rush that she hardly remembered what was in it. "Yes!" she said pulling out a full length white wool coat with a thick fur collar that could be flipped up to form a hood.

Dagmar tsked at it, "I'm afraid it's a bit worse for the wear."

Christina could see how wrinkled it was and looked at it with misgivings, "Is it beyond hope then?"

"Not really… Claus? Could you get several pots of water boiling for me? " She examined it more closely, paying attention to the decorative corded braid work before announcing, "At least the appliqué work is still intact. Yes. You leave this to me, Lotte. I'll have it ready for you by morning."

Christina's face lit up in a big smile and she hugged her tante, "Tak fur det! I was afraid I was going to have to wear Papa's old riding cloak!"

"Oh! You don't think it will snow, do you?" she asked, after running to the window to peer outside. "I would so hate to be stranded here after the wedding, after all of Erik's work to have the house ready for us!"

Christina went to her room for a few minutes and returned with a small package wrapped in tissue paper and handed it to Dagmar. "This isn't appropriate to give as a gift, but it's something I know you can use, so I'll give this to you now informally."

Dagmar set aside the warm iron she was using and picked up the package. "You don't need to go spending your money on me! I have enough to carry back home with me as it is!"

"OH! Good heavens, child!" she exclaimed as she opened the package. "How did you know I needed these?" she asked, examining the two pairs of scissors, one a sewing shears and the other a diminutive 'Chatelaine' scissors for close handwork.

"I have watched you struggling with your old, awkward shears and wanted to get you something to make your life easier."

Dagmar began to re-wrap the scissors.

"Na-a, no you don't," declared Christina. "Those are for you to use!" and she took the scissors and laid them on Dagmar's work table and removed the old ones. "There!"

Dagmar shook her head and chuckled as she went back to working on the coat, "You grow more like your mother every day!"

She sat down across from Dagmar, "Tell me more about Mama. What was she like on her wedding day?"

"Child, I hardly know! I was no more than six or seven years old when your Mama married Ole. I do remember that she was very beautiful – just like you. And Mormor* helped her with her dress and all the things I have tried to do for you. Your Mama was a good seamstress because Mormor had taught her very well. And she could sing. She had a beautiful voice – much like yours! She was constantly asked to sing for church services but Morfar** felt that that was vanity and would not allow it. So she sang for the cows and the laundry … and for you!"

"Mama taught me so many songs!" and she began to sing.

Christina went back to the trunk, still singing, to inspect its contents. "Oh, Tante," she moaned, "nearly everything in here needs to be pressed. It would take me a week to do it all. Even with your help, we couldn't possibly finish it by tomorrow!"

"Well, you'll have plenty of time _after _tomorrow, so I wouldn't worry about it!"

Christina giggled and sat down, sighing dreamily, "yes…", thinking of Erik and wondering what he was thinking about and wondering how she would get to the house tonight because Erik had told her not to come alone…

"Change your dress now so you can wash the one you're wearing and be able to pack it into the trunk tomorrow. And take out everything you'll want to be wearing tomorrow so we can seal up the trunk and send it up to the new house early and not let everything wait until the last minute tomorrow."

She went back into the bedroom, resuming her song.

"And there'll be no sneaking out tonight! It's a good thing Erik has such a good friend as Monsieur Khan! I'd hate to think what might have happened if Ole had discovered you there with Erik!"

"But we were only sleeping, Tante! Neither of us has been able to sleep for almost a week. We've both had nightmares, and the only thing that seems to help is sleeping together. So one of us wraps up in covers and sleeps on top of the bed and the other sleeps inside."

"And you think your father would believe that? No. You stay here tonight… and no Monsieur Boivan down here either!"

"He wouldn't do that," she said quietly. "He feels that doing so would dishonor me, so he would never do that."

"Well, it's good to know that one of you has some sense! Why don't you make us some cocoa?"

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"Erik? Would you please find something to do? This incessant pacing is giving me a headache! You're worse than when you were waiting to be presented to the shah!"

"There are too many things that could go wrong tomorrow… " and his mind began to wander, wondering , _What if she changes her mind? What if she decides that my face is too ugly and she can't abide it? What if Oluf decides that I am too much of a risk? What if the minister backs out? What if she has an accident with that carriage she'll be riding in? How safe are the streets in town? Is she safe in that hotel? Is this avalanche season? What if one of them demolishes the house? What if…?_

"And if they do, we will deal with them, tomorrow!" Nadir tried to make his voice sound calming, but he was beginning to grow anxious as well. Erik was not the most patient person he had ever met and the tension of this situation was palpable.

"I was the same way before Valérie and I were married. Father was ready to lock me in the barn!" chortled Robért. Robért and Oluf had come over to the new house so final preparations could be made and they could all ride to the Town Hall together in the morning.

Just then a knock was heard at the door and Erik strode to open it, "Yes?" he demanded rather abruptly.

Constantino jumped back at the harshness of the greeting.

"Sorry, Tino, Erik is a little bit on edge. What do you have here?" interposed Robért.

Constantino looked from one to the other, not quite certain who he should be addressing, "Umm, these were delivered to the house this morning. Valérie said to bring them over here."

Nadir stepped between them and took the boxes from Constantino, "I'll take those," he said. "Thank you!" and took the boxes into the living room.

"What's this?" Erik asked hesitantly.

Nadir began with the smallest of the three and took out three pairs of fine leather gloves, white, gray and black and set them on a nearby table. He then opened the largest box and took out a long black coat with a fur trimmed cape collar that could be raised to form a hood, and with shoulder, hem and cuff decorations worked in black cord appliqué. Finally he opened the medium sized box and took out a black wool felt fedora with a small feather tucked onto the brim.

"The gloves you ordered yourself, so they should fit. The hat I had made with a slightly wider brim to accommodate for your height. The coat is something you need. You don't want to wear the one we traveled across the desert with for your wedding. Come, try them on!"

Erik slowly approached them, his eyes on the hat, "You shouldn't be spending your savings on such frivolous stuff for me." He said, but his eyes told a different story. They fairly danced when he saw the hat and reached for it to try it on. It was a perfect fit – despite his mask - and looked quite fetching after he adjusted the brim a bit and tilted it on his head.

The room was filled with smiles as the men watched him try on the new apparel. He would scowl at each item and examine it before donning it and examining the fit with the aid of the dressing mirror Robért had brought out from the bedroom. Once he had the coat and gloves on, Robért remarked that something was missing. He reached behind the sofa and brought out a box and handed it to Erik.

Erik scowled at the box, then at him, and finally at all of them, "I smell a conspiracy here!" He took the box and opened it to reveal a white silk scarf, longer than usual. Underneath was another off-white scarf that felt like very fine wool. The label said it was cashmere.

"I got them long enough for you to wrap around your neck … "

"To protect against attacks with a Punjab lasso!" quipped Nadir.

That got a laugh out of everyone, even Erik. "Thank you. Truly, I thank you." He paused a moment, thinking, _ How have I come to deserve having such wonderful friends? They are truly a blessing to me and an unexpected and unsought for one at that. Mother always told me that I would never have friends so I might as well learn to live alone. Life certainly is a puzzle! C_omposing himself and swiping a tear from his eye, he shook his head and said, "Now, I know I stocked this house with some fine cognac, unless the Daroga has taken to some heavy sampling, I think we could perhaps tap a bottle? Tino? Do you remember where you put it? In the wine cellar?"

"Yes! I remember, Monsieur! I will be right back."

"Doostam, you know very well that I do not drink."

"Of course I do, it's just so enjoyable to tease you because you are so good at rejoinders!"

"Does that mean that if I keep my mouth shut that you will stop your teasing? Or is this a new ploy to keep me quiet?"

"Daroga, nothing I do will ever keep you quiet!"

After the laughter quieted, Constantino returned with the cognac and everyone had a glass. Even Constantino. Nadir then suggested showing the others what Erik had given him. Oluf begged off, claiming he was too tired and sat down in one of the easy chairs near the ceramic and tile heater. He took a deep breath and let out a sigh, "Erik. I know that Christina was with you at the house last night." He held up his hand to stop Erik who was about to protest. "I saw you send her back with Nadir. He is a very good friend."

Erik nodded, "I know that."

"I trust you. I trust you with my only daughter, and yet I wonder why you would allow such a breach of etiquette, so close to your wedding and take the chance that it could jeopardize everything?"

Erik swirled his drink and watched the subtle hues of the alcohol as they picked up the light from the lanterns. "Your daughter and I have, for different reasons, found it all but impossible to sleep at night. Your daughter is an innocent and sensitive person. Her treatment and the threats of worse, both from the gypsies and later from Raoul, have triggered nightmares that cause her to awaken screaming or at best, to toss and turn as if to ward off their advances. In any event, it makes the act of retiring to bed a fearful experience and makes actually sleeping all but impossible.

"For myself, my reasons are far more egregious. Since I was born, I have been locked in a room by myself until I ran away from home, thinking to better my lot by joining a gypsy caravan. Once they saw my face, they enslaved me and treated me as a beast. Worse. I was kept in a cage, fed only enough to keep me alive, and used as a sex object by the one called Javert."

"Good heavens! You were only what? Four? Five?"

Erik nodded, "I was put on display - for a price – as the 'Devil's Child' or 'Living Corpse' and forced to expose myself to unthinking people who would throw things at me and spit at me. If the customer was not satisfied I would be whipped or beaten, sometimes after, sometimes as a part of the show."

"I've heard enough. I can understand why you have nightmares."

"Not yet, you don't. I escaped when I was about ten, thinking I had killed Javert, and was hidden under the Paris opera house. It was much nicer than where I had been, but it was just another cage. Yet here I learned about music and instruments and singing and one day Nadir showed up and offered me a position in the court of the Shah of Persia. He said I would be paid a king's ransom in gold if I pleased the shah. So I went with him, neither of us realizing that it would be just another form of slavery. I was taught to kill and forced to kill those whom the shah claimed to be his enemies. It sickened me. Then Nadir learned that once the palace I was building for the shah was completed, I was to be executed. We escaped and landed in Robért's home in a blizzard, where I met and rescued your daughter. After living in such close proximity, we began to see the same yearnings in each other, the yearning for peace, for tranquility, for love. And we discovered that in each other's presence, the nightmares would subside. So we began sleeping that way – one on top of the bed, one within."

He paused to take a drink and to evaluate the effect he was having on Oluf, "I see you are still skeptical. I will admit that I have at times had more, um, carnal? designs on your daughter and I know they are reciprocated, but I would not dishonor her by acting on them, despite what Raoul has declared. She is far too precious to me to do such a thing to her."

Oluf crossed the room to pour himself another drink, offering the bottle to Erik who declined with a wave of his hand. "My son, I could see when you two parted this morning that it was not the parting of two lovers in a tryst, but of two mature people who were madly in love. I could see how you held her that you respected her and would not dishonor her. And it would seem that even the Almighty has had his hand in your coming together, so that you are able to ease one another's pain. Who am I, a mere mortal, to argue with that?" He drained his glass and set it on the tray on the table before looking back at Erik, "I can only hope that you each find a way to sleep tonight because Dagmar has forbidden Christina to leave the village tonight."

Erik smirked a bit, "One night will not ruin either of us, not when there is so much to look forward to tomorrow. Sir, I appreciate and admire your forbearance in not calling us out when you saw us this morning. It would have shattered the mood, to say the least. Thank you. And thank you for your trust."

Erik held out his hand and Oluf took it and nodded his head.

"I will say good night then, er, which way to my room? Where is everybody sleeping tonight, by the way?" he asked.

"Well I had wanted Robért to stay here for the night, but Valérie insisted on staying at the house, so he will stay there with her and Constantino will sleep here in the room across from yours. Since their separation at the hands of the gypsies, Claus and Dagmar are inseparable, so he will stay in the hotel with the women. If you need anything I will be in the very next room and Tino will be across the hall."

"Good night then, Son."

Erik could feel the color rising from his neck, "I know…"

"That's OK, son, I understand. It will take some time before you feel comfortable enough with me to call me 'Father'. Don't let it bother you; it will come, sometime when you least expect it." He gave Erik a hug and turned to find his way to his bedroom.

Erik finished his drink and took the two glasses to the kitchen where he met the others just finishing their drinks.

"There you are!" declared Robért. "We were afraid you'd gone to bed before I'd had a chance to say 'Good Night'!"

"And what kind of host would I be to retire while my guests were still here?"

"Well, tomorrow will be a big day, so I shall be on my way home. Until tomorrow!"

Erik nodded, "Until tomorrow! You take care on those pathways!"

He turned to the others, "Oluf has retired, and so shall I. Tino? You know where your room is for tonight? You're right across the hall from Oluf and next to my suite, just above Daroga…" He then turned to Nadir, "Daroga, I…"

Nadir held up his hand to stop Erik. "Doostam, you are the only person here who can understand me, so I can freely speak in my language and say, you are as a brother to me and therefore it is my duty to see you well equipped on this day! Perhaps you will have the opportunity to reciprocate, now that I have my own personal harim!"

Erik chuckled, "Please do feel free to make adjustments to your quarters in whatever way you see fit, whether it be furnishings or someone to warm your bed. The space is yours."

"Again, I thank you, Doostam. Rest well."

"And you as well."

Erik had been going through the house, setting the lights low to help them all find their way around in case any of them needed to get up during the night. The candle sconces on the walls contained a mixture of palm oil wax and another additive from the Himalayas that he had devised that would burn for a very long time – several days, in fact – without need of candle trimming or adding more fuel. He met up with Tino coming in from the stables to check on the horses for the night and told him 'Good Night!' before heading for his room, wondering what he could do to pass the hours until morning.

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**Translation: **

**Mormor **= Grandma (in Swedish)

**Morfar** = Grandpa (in Swedish)


	17. Chapter 17

Thank you for your review, Jamal! (تشکر از شما برای نظر شما، جمال.

من تحت تاثیر قرار گرفته.) And thank you to all my other reviewers and readers, and especially to Filhound , who still is correcting and double-guessing my choices at times! (Keeping me honest & on track!)

**Christina, Chapter 17**

"No! Get away from me!" yelled Christina as she moved off the bed and onto the floor. "Leave me alone!"

Dagmar entered the room and Christina grabbed the old shears and held them defensively, "No! I won't go with you! Leave me alone!"

"Sweetie, it's just me, Tante…"

"No! Go away!" Her eyes were frantically scanning the room like a wild animal searching for a way of escape. "Let me go!" She furtively pulled on her slippers and grabbed the white coat, backing out the door with the scissors held in front of her before she turned and ran down the hallway and out the door.

"Claus! Claus!" Dagmar cried, running back into the room to get dressed.

"What is it? What's got you in such a state?"

By now Dagmar was crying, "She's gone! She just … ran out of the building! She's dreaming and ran out into the night! Oh, Claus! We have to find her!"

Christina kept running, running for her life, or so she thought. _I won't let them catch me again! They can't force me to go back! I'll find Erik and he'll protect me… _ She looked around, bewildered by her surroundings, _ But where am I? Where is Erik?_

About then a gendarme was making his rounds and saw a small woman running down a narrow street , crying out for Erik. "I know her!" and he spurred his horse on to catch up to her. He dismounted and she whirled on him, brandishing the scissors. Caught off guard, he was cut on the arm by the sharp blades. "Hey! What?" She turned and ran again, but he caught up to her, "Christina?"

She came to him and began to cry, "Where's Erik? What have you done with my Erik?"

He held her, disarming her while holding his bleeding arm, "Shush now. How did you get here? Let's take you home." He escorted her to the station where he directed one of the other night duty officers to take her home to the Boivan estate, while he bandaged up his arm.

"No!" she hollered… "You!" she said pointing to him. "You take me, please? Do you know where Erik is?"

"Well, yes, I do… here let me finish this and I'll take you home." He finished wrapping his arm, put his suit and coat back on and took her out to his horse. They hadn't gone far before she slumped in his arms, asleep.

They arrived at Robért's house and knocked on the door, calling for Robért.

He came to the door , wrapped in a robe, and was stunned to see Christina. "What? Christina?"

"What have you done with Erik?" she demanded. "Where is he?" She turned on the gendarme, "You said he was here! You said you were taking me to him! What have you done with him?" She began pounding on his chest with her fists, then tried to get hold of the gendarme's service knife, but failing that, she ran off.

Robért went back inside to get some clothes on and asked the gendarme what had happened.

"I found her running around in the village, searching for Erik. I thought she was lost, so I brought her here…"

"What's going on, Robért? What's wrong?" Valérie asked, looking from her husband to the police officer.

"It's Christina. She's run away – looking for Erik!"

"Apparently she's trapped in a nightmare… I'll go get Erik." Accustomed to late night emergencies, she had a cloak and boots handy right at the door. She quickly donned them and raced for the stable, not bothering with a saddle, and took off for the new house.

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At first Nadir thought this was some other sort of pre-wedding joke on Erik, but when he saw the look in Valérie's eyes and how she was dressed, he raced for Erik's quarters, taking the steps three at a time. The bed was empty, unused _(so what else was new? he thought.)_ Scanning the suite he found Erik slumped over his desk in the work room. "Erik! Doostam!"

Erik sat up stiffly, stretching out the kinks in his back, "What is it? Has the morning arrived?"

"Wake up, Doostam! Christina has run away!"

"WHAT?" He stood up so fast he knocked over the chair he'd been sitting on. "Where? When?" He ran for his coat and headed for the stables for Cesár. "Which way did she go?"

Nadir joined him there, mostly dressed, along with the gendarme and Constantino. The gendarme explained what had happened and they took off for the house, watching for footprints in the snow. "There!" said Nadir, pointing to a faint trail leading from the house to the barn in the fresh dusting of snow.

Erik drew up at the barn and dismounted, slowly approaching the open door. "Christina?" He could hear crying coming from inside. "Christina?" he called, softly throwing his voice to soothe her.

"Erik? Is that you?" she asked, her voice muffled in the folds of her coat.

"It's me, Christina, my love." He went to where she was crouching in one of the vacated horse stalls and gently reached out to her. At first she appeared not to trust him, but when he touched her she fell into his arms, crying,

"Erik? Oh, Erik!" Her hair was in disarray and bits of hay and straw clung to her coat. Someplace along the way she had lost one of her slippers.

"Yes, my love. I'm here. And nobody is ever going to hurt you again." He picked her up and carried her into the house where Valérie had hot cocoa waiting. Erik shook his head and took her straight to the bedroom. He wrapped her in a duvet before shedding his boots and coat and frock coat and sliding into the bed next to her.

"They tried to hold me captive. Raoul wouldn't let me see you!" she said, weeping.

He wrapped his arms around her. "Shush, my love. You're safe here with me."

Valérie took off her one remaining slipper and covered both of them with another blanket, for which Erik thanked her before she left the room, closing the door.

Out in the kitchen they all breathed a sigh of relief as Robért finished pouring cocoa for everyone. Suddenly Oluf entered, "My daughter! Where is she?"

"She's safe, in there with Erik," Valérie told him, nodding her head toward the bedroom.

He tip-toed to the door and opened it a crack to see them lying on the bed in an embrace. Erik turned his head toward the door and touched his finger to his lips, asking for silence. Oluf returned to the others in the kitchen looking a bit shaken and turning red in the face, "If I ever see that vicomte again I will kill him on the spot!"

"Here, Oluf, have some cocoa," said Valérie, handing him her cup.

"What? Oh, thank you," he said, taking the cup, not really sure what was in it.

"I need to get back and report that she is back home and is safe," said the gendarme, about to leave.

"You didn't know she was staying in the village, Jean?" inquired Robért, "With her aunt and uncle from Sweden?"

The young man turned around and blanched, "What?" He looked at the others for any sign that this was wrong. "I – I didn't know…"

"No harm done," said Robért. "We probably would have brought her here anyway. Thank you for saving us the trouble."

"Dagmar!" declared Oluf. "You have to get back and tell Dagmar where she is! She must be frantic with worry!"

"Dagmar?" asked the gendarme.

"Her aunt," replied Robért. "Christina was staying with her tonight, in the hotel. You know…," he said thinking, "since everyone but Christina is up anyway, maybe Dagmar should come up here, bring everything she'll need for Christina in the morning, so Christina can get ready up here? Val?"

"Well, that was the original plan," said Valérie. "It would make more sense than having her chase down there in the morning in order to get ready."

"I'll go down with Jean and bring her back up here." offered Oluf. "She'll only be away from Claus for one night."

"You'd better stay here, Oluf," said Robért, "It's too easy to get lost out there in the woods at night. I'll go."

Jean & Robért were out the door in a flash and on their way back to the village.

"I don't understand. How did she get up here?"

"Come," said Nadir, putting his hand on Oluf's shoulder, "I will explain on the way back and then we can all go back to sleep. The dawn will soon be here, whether we are ready for it or not."

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Christina rolled over and found a pair of deep aqua eyes looking straight at her from less than four inches away.

"Agh!" she screamed.

"You know, if you keep doing that every morning, I might have to sleep in a different room," Erik quipped with a soft smile.

She sat up to look around before realizing she had her white coat on. "What? …Oh, NO! My coat! Just look at it! Tante will be so angry... Wait! How?" Erik just grinned and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand as he watched her slowly come to realize what might have happened…"How did I get here?"

"A gallant young gendarme thought he was bringing you home after he found you wandering on the street, apparently searching for me. With a very wicked pair of sewing scissors, I might add."

She clapped her hand to her mouth, "I didn't!"

"You did!"

"Is he alright?"

"He'll live. He was quite proud of himself until they told him he was at the wrong house!"

Christina giggled, "Oh, that poor man!" "Oh! What time is it?"

Erik reached for the side table to get his pocket watch, "It is half past eight o'clock."

She looked at him, still dressed from the previous day, and giggled, "You too!"

"Well, sort of. You might want to check under your coat," he added with a smirk.

"Ohhh…" and she quickly buttoned up her coat after finding only her nightgown beneath it.

There was a light knock at the door and Valérie poked her head in. "I thought I heard voices in here. Christina? I have a robe you can use and Erik, I think you'd best go home."

"Yes, Madam," he said getting out of the bed. He donned his boots and grabbed his coats before leaning over to kiss Christina, "See you in a few hours, Mademoiselle!"

Both of them turned red before she kissed him back. "Yes."

He turned to Valérie, "Thank you for the use of your bedroom. I trust you have made arrangements to take Christina home?"

"We decided to go back to the original plan and brought Dagmar up here last night, since she was awake anyway. So go home and take your time getting ready. I suppose we should be leaving at around half past eleven to arrive by half past twelve?"

"One last question… where is H'Abibti**?" he asked her.

"Nadir brought her up early this morning. Now get out of here!" He cast one more soft smile at Christina as Dagmar was leading her toward the bathroom and then left.

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It wasn't long before Christina was soaking in a tub of hot, fragrant water, strewn with rose petals and lotus blossoms, while Valérie washed her hair and then her back. Once she was coaxed out of the tub Valérie had her lie on a towel covered table where she began to massage in some subtly fragrant oils, courtesy of Nadir. "According to Erik, today we are to treat you like a princess and to lavish you with apparently everything he can think of." They both giggled as she got a gentle massage with heated fragrant oils. '

"Mmm… it's a shame I can't get married more often!" They giggled at that.

"But would you want to?" asked Valérie incredulously.

"No, I suppose not, not after marrying Erik. Anyone else would pale in comparison, I'm afraid. Erik is so… so Erik" Dagmar entered the room and sat down behind her and began brushing and then braiding her hair. "He's so loving, and protective. He always seems to know to do the right thing. He can even cook! I mean, really cook!" She turned around abruptly at that and Dagmar, who was just beginning the braiding process, yelled out, "Hey! Now you made me lose the strands! Hold still."

"Sorry."

She dressed in a simple gown and the robe Valérie had offered for her to use and went to the kitchen to have some breakfast. Christina was stunned at the spread Tante had prepared.

"What is all this? Tante! If I ate one fourth of this I wouldn't fit into my dress!" she laughed.

"Well, you may not have another opportunity to eat until very late, so eat up!"

Christina ate what little she could in her nervous state before donning her wedding dress with its dark blue standing collar at her throat and a lighter blue apron that almost reached the hem.

When she was almost ready they still had some time so Valérie polished her nails with a scented buffing compound until they looked like glass and smelled like garden flowers. While she was doing that, Tante pinned the crown of flowers in place. Christina finally looked in the mirror and was startled to see what appeared to be an actual queen looking back at her . "Oh! Thank you! Both of you!" Then Dagmar handed her the shoes and she started to weep.

"Oh, aren't we a fine bridal party, sitting here weeping on your wedding day!" fussed Dagmar.

Right on time, Robért knocked lightly before stepping into the room, dressed in formal attire. "Are we almost ready? I have your coat…" He held it up for them to inspect.

"It looks almost like new! How did you do that?"asked Dagmar.

"I have had my hand in many things over the years. For a few years I was a valet for a very wealthy man who insisted on wearing white coats for every occasion. I quickly learned how to take care of them, a skill that has served me well ever since."

"Oh, Robért! Thank you! You are amazing! You must teach me your technique!", cooed Dagmar.

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By the time Erik arrived at his home, Nadir already had a hot, fragrant bath waiting for him.

"Mmm, what is that fragrance? Are you trying to make a fop of me, Persian?"

"It is just some essences I brought with me from Persia. You do want to smell attractive today?"

"Do I not smell attractive on other days?"

"Well," Nadir cleared his throat, "since you ask…'

"Never mind!" He waited for Nadir to leave before disrobing and slipping into the oversize tub of hot, fragrant bathwater. He had ordered the oversize fixture for his bath because he was tired of having to sit with his knees scrunched up to his chin in order to fit in a tub. So now he could at last relax in a tub. He was just getting comfortable when Nadir again entered the room with an armload of towels and more bottles of, well, stuff.

Erik grabbed the nearest towel and held it to his chest, "Not only do you not knock but apparently have no sense of decency! What is it you want?"

"Doostam, we have less than three hours to get dressed and eat some breakfast before we have to meet Christina's party at the house. I have brought extra towels to speed your drying off and some, well, unguents if you will? to relax you and lift your spirits."

"Persian, you sound like an Arabian salesman in the markets of Murrākuš *!"

Nadir chuckled, "Thank you! That was the exact effect I was aiming for! Now, we haven't much time, but it is my job today – and today only, mind you - to treat you like a royal prince!"

"And if I do not yield to this sort of pandering?" Erik asked, stepping out of the tub as Nadir gently dried off his back and wrapped another towel around his waist.

"Then you forfeit your right to reciprocate when our positions are reversed, some day in the future. Lie down." And he gestured to a towel-draped table.

"Why?"

"So I can more easily reach you to massage your skin with oils."

Erik obliged while complaining, "This seems like an awful lot of trouble; when are you getting ready?" As much as Erik hated to be touched, something in these fragrances was relaxing, almost hypnotizing him, to the extent that he was beginning to actually enjoy this treatment.

"I have only to change my clothing," Nadir said, eventually wiping his hands on a towel and putting away the bottles of oils.

"Good. Then we are finished?"asked Erik, getting up from the table.

"Yes!" said Nadir and whipped the towel from Erik's waist with a flourish, snapping his backside lightly with it.

"Hey!"

Nadir just smiled mischievously, "That, too, is part of the tradition."

Erik grabbed his undergarments and shot Nadir an attempt at a warning glance but couldn't keep a smile out of his expression, "Somehow I doubt that!"

"It's true! Just ask any Persian from the shah's court!" he said with a smirk, half daring him to find such a person in this neighborhood.

"Hmm... how much time do we have?"

Nadir consulted Erik's pocket watch… "Almost an hour. You finish dressing and I will prepare some coffee and crepes."

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Christina stepped into the stable and found H'Abibti brushed and dressed with ribbons braided and tied in her tail and more ribbons with floral festoons braided into her mane. Her saddle was covered in red velvet trimmed in gold braid. Her bridle was polished until it looked like gold. She was about to mount when she saw Erik and Nadir approaching with her father and her breath caught in her throat. Erik was magnificent! He looked positively regal, sitting so tall and straight on that magnificent stallion! She giggled behind her hand when she saw the hat. She'd never seen him wear a real hat before. It looked just right. Very dapper. She let out a gasp when she saw his coat. It was almost an exact copy of her own, much larger, of course, and his was black, but aside from subtle differences in the line of the collar, they were almost identical_. How strange that they both had such similar tastes in so many things! And how incredibly handsome he looked today! If he hadn't already taken her breath away, he certainly did today._ She stole a glance at her father and blushed to see him decked out like a prince and watching her with fatherly pride.

Cesár had been brushed until he shone like an onyx statue, with ribbons and festoons woven into his mane and tail.

Erik dismounted revealing that Cesár also sported a red velvet saddle covering, also trimmed in gold braid. He stepped over to her, his eyes bright with what looked like sparks as he took in her appearance. He was stunned. She was so beautiful, so… ethereal, so like a fairy queen with her crown of daisies and ribbon streamers, all dressed in creamy lace and powder blue apron, and surrounded with the soft wool coat and the fur collar. She was purely angelic. He doffed his hat with a slight bow, kissing the back of her hand lightly, feeling sparks when he touched her. He had no control of the muscles of his face which insisted on maintaining a shy grin. "Mademoiselle."

Oluf wiped a tear from his eye, thinking, '_Our little Lotte has grown up, Mama! Now what do you think of that?' He was so proud of her right now he felt like he was ready to burst._

But he was no prouder than Nadir, who watched, wondering, '_When did that awkward boy that I took to Persia become this regal and elegant prince of a man? I am so honored to be allowed to call him 'friend'!'_

"Monsieur," she replied with an equally shy grin and took his hand as he helped her to mount. She really hated riding side-saddle, but since this was her mother's wedding dress and was not designed for riding astride a horse, she would endure it. The rest of the party could only sit their horses and watch with bright smiles and no few tears.

Before they left Robért gave them each a small bag of centime coins, telling them to toss these to the children on the way. They looked at each other, puzzled, before Robért told them with a grin, "You'll see."

Nadir led the way, followed by Christina and Erik, Oluf and the rest of the wedding party down the narrow single pathway through the woods.

As they neared the village and the road widened, Erik pulled Cesár abreast of H'Abibti and reached over for her hand. He wanted so much to kiss her right then, to hold her in his arms. A rod of some sort suddenly tapped his hand and he looked around to see Dagmar shaking her head at their hand-holding. Erik rolled his eyes and withdrew his hand. Christina giggled and did the same. Soon, seeming from out of nowhere, dozens of children came running up to the edges of the roadway, watching and waiting for something. Erik reached into the pouch Robért had given him and tossed a few of the coins toward the children. They scrambled for them making both of them laugh and soon Christina had children on her side of the road as well. But as she watched, Christina noticed one youngster who didn't leave his spot at the edge of the grass. Then she noticed crutches lying in the grass near him. She tried to toss a few coins his way, but couldn't get them far enough for him to reach, so she moved her horse closer to Erik and pointed out the boy. Erik reached into his pocket and pulled out a 1-Frank coin and tossed it so it landed right in the boy's hand. His eyes lit up like stars and he tucked the coin into his pocket with a huge smile. Christina looked at him in admiration with tears in her eyes as Erik shyly looked down at the ground before continuing to scan the crowd for children.

The closer they came to the town hall, the more people they encountered lining the streets and throwing fragrant dried flowers in their path before falling into line behind them, forming an ever-increasing procession. Neither of them had expected anything of this sort and indeed, it seemed to be a spontaneous reaction of the townspeople themselves. Whatever the case, they were both blushing furiously by the time they arrived at their destination.

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Read and Review, if you like!

**Translations:**

*Murrākuš = Marrakesh, Morocco (in Arabic)

**H'Abibti = Beloved or beloved one (in Arabic) (the name of Christina's horse)


	18. Chapter 18

I need to send a huge THANK YOU to my Beta reader, Filhound, for helping me to fill out some of these scenes and again, for keeping me on track with the story. And thank you to all who have read, reviewed and favorited the story. It isn't over yet!

Christina - Chapter 18

When they turned the corner onto the street where the town hall was located, Christina looked up to see the roadway covered in flower petals leading up to the doorway. The flowers continued up the wall and encircled the doorway. Nadir halted them in front of the hall doors and turned to them with a big smile. Christina felt as if she were either just waking up from a dream or had fallen into one, the heady fragrance of the flowers creating such a contrast to the stark winter mountain air. And she suddenly noticed Nadir. Why hadn't she seen him before this? He had been right there in front of them all the way here. He was dressed in what looked to be a nice black wool suit topped with a fur coat with luxurious woven Persian motifs for the sleeves. On his head he wore a traditional Persian qaraqul* cap, but instead of the normal black or gray color, his hat was of a golden color and so shiny it almost looked to be made of polished brass. Erik dismounted and approached Christina, offering his hand to help her dismount, still with the shy smile on his face and those adoring aqua eyes. She had eyes only for him as she dismounted, thoroughly captivated by his presence, her crown of daisies and auburn hair giving her the aura of the queen of the procession.

Nadir waited now until he had their attention before he told them, "Welcome to your bridal ceremony." and opened the double doors to the hall. Erik could hear a few gasps as he stepped aside to allow Christina to enter first and looked around quickly to see what he'd done wrong. Christina just giggled and took his arm so that they both entered at the same time . "I'll explain later," she whispered to him.

The room was dimly lit by only candles and filled with the even headier scent of flowers than outside, coming from rose petals covering the floor and alternating bouquets of red roses and yellow tulips and pots of blue grape hyacinths framing an aisle leading to what appeared to be a makeshift altar.

Nadir and Dagmar took their coats and handed them off to be hung up and gave Christina a small bouquet of yellow tea roses, which she grasped in one hand. Taking Erik's hand with the other, they waited anxiously as the townspeople filed in to take their seats. They walked then, hand in hand, up the improvised aisle, to where the magistrate and the priest were waiting for them, but what happened after that was a blur. Neither of them would remember the ceremony, who said or did what, they were so lost in each other's eyes the building could have come down around them and they would not have noticed. They both had to be prompted to say their "I do's" and the priest smiled when he had to repeat the question,

"Do you, Erik Robért Boivan, take Christina as you lawfully wedded wife?"

Erik's eyes glowed and said far more than the simple "I do" of his reply.

The magistrate smiled even more when he also had to repeat the question twice for Christina, "Do you, Christina Daae Oledotter, take Erik as your lawfully wedded husband?" She wanted to hold him so badly! "Yes, I mean Ja! I do."

Yet when they were told that they could kiss, they suddenly became shy and hesitated. Erik finally took the initiative and took her in his arms and kissed her soundly. When they came up for air, he told her "Hello Madam Boivan."

"Messieurs et Mesdames, allow me to present Monsieur and Madam Boivan!" announced the magistrate. And a cheer went up from the assembled guests. After they had shaken the hand of every person in the village (or so it seemed to Erik) they were finally escorted to a table decorated just for them and the wedding party and more candles were lit to brighten up the room. Once wine had been distributed to everyone the toasting began while tasty dishes were presented to them for sampling before being arranged on long banquet tables. Though Erik and Christina were expected to sample every dish, toasts continually would interrupt them before a new dish was presented to them to sample. It was hopeless to keep up with it all.

Soon a small orchestra had assembled and began playing and they were coerced to begin a dance. Fortunately it was one of the three that Christina had decided to teach him. They twirled around the floor like professional dancers and were soon joined by others. When they ducked out of the dance and took a moment to sit down, the magistrate came over to shake their hands and congratulate them.

"Thank you", said Erik "It was a wonderful ceremony."

"How would you know? You were paying more attention to Christina than to Monsieur Renoir!" quipped Nadir.

"Oh, I don't mind. I can get pretty long-winded when I think someone is paying attention!"

They chuckled at that before he turned to Christina and Oluf, "But I couldn't help noticing that you and your father have different names?"

"That's not so!" said Oluf "See? Right here," he said pointing to the marriage contract. "It says Christina Daae Oledotter!"

The magistrate looked up, confused. "But your name is Oluf Ragnvaldsson, not Daae."

"Daae was my mother's name," explained Christina. "I am Oluf's daughter… that's what 'Oledotter' is about. Technically, I am no longer Oledotter because I am now Erik's wife and now bear the name Boivan, although I will always be Oluf's daughter!"

He turned to Oluf, still confused, "But your name is Ragnvaldsson."

"Ja! My father's name was Ragnvald, so I am Ragnvald's son. And his father's name was Søren, so his last name was Sørensson. Ja?"

"Oh-h… OK. I think I understand. Thank you!"

As he walked away, Christina leaned against Erik's shoulder. He gave her a little kiss and asked, "Tired?" She nodded before giving out a large yawn behind her hand. She paused in the action to admire the rings on her hand, half wondering where they'd come from.

"Come here," said Erik, patting his lap.

She snuggled into his lap with a contented smile. "Happy?" he asked. She nodded again, and yawned again. He so loved cuddling with her, feeling her snuggle up against him, humming… or was that snoring? He looked down and sure enough, she was asleep!

He turned to Nadir sitting a few chairs away, "Persian? How long does this… continue?" and nodded toward Christina.

Nadir looked sympathetically toward Christina and walked over to where Robért was handing out pieces of one of the wedding cakes. They conferred for a moment, Nadir indicating the sleeping Christina, before he returned. "Let her sleep for a little while. It's almost time for you two to say your farewells to everyone. Maybe ten minutes?"

Erik looked down lovingly, then nodded, "Alright. Ten minutes." He looked back at Christina. _My wife. How can this amazing, wonderful thing have happened? To me? This beautiful wondrous creature, asleep here in my arms, is now my wife! Mother told me I would never have friends, yet look at this: a room filled with people, neighbors, new friends, all helping me to celebrate this amazing event. I can't even think of enough words to express this. I feel more joy than my heart can hold, more peace than I could ever have hoped for, enough contentment for a hundred lifetimes!_

Nadir was suddenly standing next to him and pulled out a handkerchief. Erik looked up in surprise as Nadir offered it to him, but he gestured that his arms were filled with Christina, so Nadir leaned over and wiped the tears that Erik hadn't realized were falling from his eyes.

He looked at Nadir, "How can this be, Doostam?"

Nadir smiled benignly, "It is what you have deserved all along, the love of a fine woman, the company of friends."

_I need a piano! _He looked around the room and spotted one near where the band had been playing. Once Christina was awake he would make a bee-line for it. He needed to play.

He watched as the men began to clear the floor once again and the small orchestra assembled. Robért waved to Erik and he nudged Christina, "Christina?" he sang to her, "Time for my sleeping princess to awaken and greet her guests."

She smiled and snuggled deeper into his arms. "Mmm… not yet," she purred.

He chuckled lightly, "My love, the entire village is watching you." Her eyes popped open and she looked around, disoriented. "Oh!"

He picked her up and carried her to the piano. Once he was sure she wouldn't fall off the bench he sat down next to her and began to play. He played a sonata that he'd heard once, maybe by Mozart? Then he played something he had been composing in his head for awhile. He wasn't sure what to call it, although he felt the sentiment of "Love Lives On" as he played. When he was done he took a stunned Christina by the hand and led her to the center of the room.

Before they had even got there, the room erupted in applause. Robért leaned over to Nadir, "Since when can he play like that?"

Nadir was applauding harder than anyone else and leaned toward Robért, "I have no idea."

Christina finally found her tongue and looking at him, asked, "When did you ever learn to play like that?" she asked him, incredulously.

"It's just a song in my head that has been aching to come out, for you, my angel." And he kissed her lightly as they took their places and waited for the music to start.

They held each other and Erik led her across the dance floor with such light and graceful steps, Christina felt as though she was floating. After one last time around the dance floor and as others joined in the dance, he gradually led her toward where Nadir and Valérie were waiting with their coats. After acknowledging the applause of those still in the hall, they turned and went out to their horses. Their first stop would be the hotel where Dagmar would help Christina to change out of her wedding dress.

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Christina yawned as they exited the hotel.

"Tired?" he asked.

"Not at all." she stood on her tiptoes and gave him a kiss.

He kissed her back, "You sure? We could stay here tonight."

"Uh-uh. I want to see this magnificent edifice of yours," she said, grinning sleepily.

"Tell you what," he said, mounting Cesár, "Come here." And he hoisted her up into his arms. "There. Comfy?"

"Very," she said snuggling into his chest. She stretched up and gave him a kiss and he kissed her back, still smiling. _In fact, he just realized that his face was aching because he had been smiling so much today!_ "My husband!"

"My wife!" and he kissed her once more before urging Cesar forward up the mountain trail, H'Abibti dutifully following them.

Constantino had remained a very trustworthy friend, so at Robért's urging, Erik had asked him whether he would consider staying on with Erik as a sort of majordomo, acting sometimes as doorman, sometimes as groom in the stables, sometimes as cook… whatever might be needed. He excitedly agreed to the arrangement. Erik offered to pay him for his service, but he refused, saying that he had no need of payment as all his needs were being taken care of already. Erik acquiesced to his request, but furtively would see that funds were deposited in his name in the local bank. At Tino's insistence, they would fix up one of the ground level rooms for his use, but for tonight he moved his things to a room down the end of the hall from Erik, not feeling right occupying the room right next to the newly married couple where he had slept the previous night.

Tonight Tino had left the reception early in order to start up the ceramic heater and light some of the lamps so that the house would be comfortable once the newlyweds arrived.

Erik was pleased to see that there were welcoming lights on at the entrance and inside the house. As soon as the house came within view, he nudged Christina to wake her up so she wouldn't miss the sight.

She gaped in awe at the beauty of the scene, the moon casting a silvery sheen across the snow on the mountainsides surrounding the house.

"Is this real? It looks like a fairyland!"

"Not only is it real, but it is all for you, my love, my angel," he told her softly, his voice sending thrills up her spine. "My wife," and he kissed her with a sweetness that slowly intensified to a sense of urgency.

Tino was in front of the house to take the horses when they arrived. "Welcome, Madam Boivan, Monsieur Boivan!" he said with a sly grin.

"Thank you, Tino," said Erik as he again picked up Christina and turned to Tino, "Good night, Tino, and thank you!" and carried her across the threshold of their new home. She hugged him tightly and gave him an intense kiss while he put her down so they could remove their coats, never breaking the kiss.

He finally pulled away to ask her, "Would Madam like a tour?"

"Tomorrow," she replied, wrapping her arms around his neck and then her legs around his waist with a giggle, losing one of her shoes in the process. They both looked down at it. "Tomorrow," they both said not quite at the same time, but close enough to elicit a giggle from her. "All I want to see is what is under this elegant attire of yours."

His eyes grew large as he pulled back, "Ooh! My shy and proper little damsel has been concealing a wanton woman beneath all her correct manners?"

She nodded her head, "That's right, Monsieur. Tonight you may discover a Nordic fantasy!"

He chuckled into her neck, "Hmm, is that a promise?"

She turned her head to catch his lips in a kiss as he began to carry her up to their suite.

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The heady scent of fragrant oils greeted them when he opened the door to the suite, and his smile widened as he imagined what would come next. He set her down on the bed with a nod toward the bathroom, "I believe there is something in here waiting for us?"

Christina, suddenly shy, looked at Erik with her huge amber doe eyes questioning what he meant. He began taking off some of his fancy clothes before turning to her, "I believe the time has come, Madam Boivan?" and he reached out to undo her hair and the crown of daisies, so delicately intertwined, until her chestnut curls fell around her shoulders. Giving her a kiss and smelling her hair, his hands moved to her dress ties and slowly he unfastened them, fumbling with the unfamiliar objects while she giggled at his attempts. Once the dress was set aside, he removed her shoe and then slowly reached up to pull down one of her stockings from her alabaster leg. Her skin was so very soft he wanted to ravish her right then, but held back, partly out of respect for her and partly to intensify his own desires. He removed the second stocking and she stood and he turned her around for him to loosen her corset. Once that item was removed, she reached up and began unbuttoning Erik's shirt, once more exposing his masculine, hard, muscled chest. He was so like the statues of gods she had seen in museums. Yes, he was scarred, but rather than detract, the scars accentuated his masculinity, making him all the more desirable. Her hands slowly moved down his chest to his waistline and began unbuttoning his pants, but as she did so he drew in a breath through his teeth and the bulge in his undergarment began to increase.

He put his hand on hers, "Maybe you'd better let me do that?" he asked with a sheepish grin. She blushed and turned her head. Once he'd set his pants aside he led her to the bathroom and finished disrobing before stepping into the oversize tub. Christina blushed to her hair roots when she realized it was her turn and began removing the last of her undergarments , then had to have him help her get into the tub before finally allowing the fragrant water to cover her body. But they had seen each other and found each other to be irresistible. He reached to fondle her, ostensibly with a washrag and soap but soon foregoing that bit of covering and just reached for her, tracing his fingers around her nipples playfully stimulating them using his nimble fingers, then taking them in his mouth and toying with them and playfully biting on them. Christina could feel her nipples and her entire body tingling with strange but pleasurable sensations.

"You are magnificent my love. A true Nordic Goddess. My own magnificent Freya. I fear that I am not worthy to sully you with my hideous mouth and face."

Christina smiled. "You are most worthy my love," and she lovingly removed his mask, gently caressing both sides of his face with her delicate fingertips. "I do not see a hideous face at all I see the beautiful soul of the man that I love. I am honored that you chose me to be your bride. You are the most virile and masculine man that I have ever known. We Swedes do not go for foppish peacocks like Raoul. We look for a man with heart and soul and spirit like you."

She came to him and wrapped her arms around him, unable to not move against him and increase his apparent desire for her. With every graze or unintentional touch, he had to grit his teeth in his attempts to hold back.

And every time Erik touched her in a sensitive spot, she let out a little gasp and would get gooseflesh despite the warmth of the water. She wanted to get lost in his arms, in him. She sat in his lap, wrapping her legs around his waist and felt his desire increase even more. He rose then and lifted her out of the tub and carried her to the bed where they continued their love-making well into the daylight hours, exploring each others' bodies and finding what areas were most pleasurable to each other before falling into a light sleep.

Hours later a light knock at the door roused Erik, who called out, "One minute!" and got up, wrapping himself in his silk robe, a gift from Nadir, before going to the door. "Yes?" he said, opening it to find Nadir standing there with some fresh croissants and coffee. '

"Breakfast?" he asked with a smirk.

"What is it, Erik?" came the sleepy voice from deeper into the bedroom.

Erik took the tray with a blush and bashful grin, "Thank you, Daroga, er, what time is it?"

"Three o'clock in the afternoon." The smirk increased in size to become a full out grin. "And… you will note? I knocked!"

Erik chuckled, "So you did. Thank you," repeated Erik, "And you can wipe that silly grin off of your face!" he said, trying not to grin himself and closing the door.

He turned to Christina, who had found the other silk robe and wrapped it around herself, padding toward the door in bare feet. "It was Nadir, greeting us with some breakfast. Would you care for some?"

"Oh, would I! I'm starved! Is that coffee I smell? Real coffee?" He chuckled as he watched her tuck into the meager fare. He had set the tray on a small table near the windows and opened the shutters. The sight was amazing. They could not only see down into the valley of Lake Leman and the outskirts of the city of Genève, but it was set against the backdrop of one of the highest peaks of the Alps, Mont Blanc. It was hard to believe that the mountain was nearly fifty miles away. It looked almost as if you could just reach out and touch it!

She gasped at the sight. "Oh! It's so beautiful!" she said with a piece of croissant between her fingers part way to her mouth.

"You're the most beautiful part of the scenery, my angel!" and he stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her. "How are you feeling this morning? Are you alright? I hope I didn't hurt you last night?"

"Just a little, just enough that I feel all tingly this morning," she put the morsel of croissant in her mouth and whispered, "Perhaps a little more of the same will make the tingling go away?"

He bit off the protruding end of the croissant and chuckled, "You think so?"

"M-hm…" and she turned out of his arms to reach for her cup of coffee, deliberately "accidentally" rubbing her hip against his increasing manhood.

When he reached out and grasped her by her breasts, she all but swooned, leaning back into his arms as he took the coffee cup from her drooping hand and set it on the table.

The sun was lighting up only the very tops of Mont Blanc and the high peaks of its massif when they next looked out the windows, making the time roughly 6 P.M.

"Oh, Erik! This is magnificent… you're magnificent, you're… you're more than I ever could have dreamed of!"

"Christina, my angel, you are the answer to my every prayer, you are so far beyond what I had been taught to hope for, to live for. You are life itself to me. I love you so much!" And he took her in his arms and kissed her deeply, longingly, protectively, possessively. "My wife."

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**Translation: ***qaraqul (or karakol) = wedge shaped cap made from the kinky curly wooly hides of aborted lambs, usually one hat per hide.

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	19. Chapter 19

**Here are a few more thoughts I had on the story. If you are squeamish, you might want to not read the last one.**

A Huge Hug and thank you to Filhound! Her expertise in European history has kept me both honest and digging through my own history records to keep this story as accurate to the locations and period as possible for a work of fiction. Thank you!

And thank you to my other reviewers! This has been a fun project and I am so happy that you have enjoyed it with me.

**Christina, Chapter 19**

**Epilogue 1:**

A week after the wedding, the day arrived for Erik to interview with the Grand Opera of Genève for a position as architect. As an architect of some standing in the area, Robért had caught wind of the Grand Opera sending out a request for bids on the construction of a new opera house and had urged Erik to apply. So he found himself in the manager's office, listening to a horrid rendition of '_The Marriage of Figaro' _while he tried to describe his designs to the head architect. But he was constantly distracted and interrupted by what he'd thought to be a junior orchestra rehearsing. When he finally remarked that their public school system might be able to use better qualified music teachers, he was stunned to learn that what he'd been hearing was a rehearsal of the grand orchestra of Geneva.

The orchestra's maestro happened to be sitting in on that portion of his interview and stood up abruptly, turning red in the face. "I beg your pardon, Monsieur, but these are the finest musicians in all of Europe! How dare you impugn their artistry! I suppose you could do better?" he fumed in anger.

"Yes, I believe I could, with competent musicians. Your violin section and your third bassoonist are flat, your flutist is sharp and your piano is likewise out of tune and the pianist is behind on the beat."

The director of the opera turned to the maestro, "It would seem we have a challenge."

"Just let him try!" shouted the maestro and stormed out of the office.

The manager stood and gestured for Erik to follow him out to the orchestra and introduced him. "Pardon me for this interruption, messieurs…, Excuse me, pardon me…"

"But we are rehearsing Monsieur LaRue…"

"This will only take a few minutes, Monsieur Concertmaster. Allow me to introduce, uh, a visiting impresario who, uh, would like to make a few suggestions before rehearsals continue?" He then turned to Erik, "Be my guest."

Erik addressed the orchestra members and introduced himself, both in French, German and Italian. "My name is Monsieur Boivan and I was just listening to your rehearsal and feel that I might have a few suggestions that could help your performance." He then walked over to the violinists and asked for one of the violins and began tuning it, then played the piece they had been rehearsing flawlessly. "That is how this ought to sound. If you would, please tune your instruments to this one."

Next he walked to the piano and pressed a few keys before announcing, "I'm afraid that tuning a piano will take more than tightening a few strings. It will take me a bit longer…" Within twenty minutes he had the piano tuned and then played the piece they'd been rehearsing, with two breaks to fine-tune two of the piano strings. The pianist bowed to him and resumed his seat at the piano, "Thank you, Mein Herr. We have not been able to find a competent professional piano-tuner."

Next he addressed the entire orchestra, "Now, everybody play middle C," he instructed and made a face. "Third bassoonist, I believe your instrument is a bit flat." And he again hit the note and repeated it until the instrument was in tune. "Flute? You as well. Please tune your instrument..."

"I did. It's in tune," he insisted.

"No, it is not. You are sharp and making the rest of the orchestra sound sour. Now please lower the pitch of your instrument." He lowered it a little and looked at Erik, "More," Erik told him. He did it again and Erik asked him , "Play it once more," and struck the piano key several times before declaring, "Good! Now, is everyone in tune?" They all played their instruments and Erik nodded, "Good! Now try the piece you were rehearsing, Monsieur Concertmaster?"

After several bars, Erik interrupted, "Excuse me, may I try the piano piece with the orchestra?"

"Of course. Is there a problem?" asked the concertmaster.

"I'm not sure. Let me hear it," and they played it and it sounded perfect.

He then turned to the pianist and told him, "I believe you are a bit late coming in. The piano is a percussion instrument and as such, the sound is somewhat delayed from the striking of the keys. Not much, but just enough to throw the orchestral sound off a little bit. If you could try to anticipate the note by no more than a split second, it will make a notable difference."

The concertmaster began the piece again and Erik nodded his head in time with the music before nodding to the concertmaster who was all smiles. When Erik returned to the office, he was unaware of a figure standing around the corner from the entrance to the concert hall. The figure listened for a few more moments before turning into another office and taking a seat at the desk.

Back in the manager's office, Erik resumed discussing the construction project and showing them some of his drawings and ideas. The manager looked at him, questioningly, "Monsieur? Are you sure you are applying for the correct position? It would seem that you would make an excellent conductor for our orchestra."

"I have no desire to perform in front of an audience, I only offer my suggestions because I simply cannot abide music improperly rendered."

The maestro entered the office and presented LaRue with a folded note. The manager examined the note, then looked from Erik to the maestro. "Hmm… it would appear that you have no choice." And he turned to the maestro, "Are you sure about this?"

"I am," declared the maestro. "Monsieur Boivan is far more qualified for this position than I am. I yield to his obvious expertise and talent."

"Well, Monsieur Boivan, it would seem that we are now without a maestro for our orchestra. Would that change your opinion of our offer?"

Erik glared thoughtfully from the manager to the former maestro. "On one condition: that Herr Maestro conduct all public performances. I will advise both the concertmaster and the maestro, but I will not perform."

"Uhm, might I ask for your reason for such an unusual arrangement, Monsieur Boivan? It is clear that you have the talent and the ability to conduct the orchestra."

Erik turned on the manager so quickly, he was afraid he was about to be attacked. "Have you perhaps failed to notice the mask I wear? I have worn it since birth. I have a hideous deformity that until recently has prevented me from normal interactions with other members of the human race. I have had my fill of performing for the amusement of the public!" He paused a moment to calm himself before continuing, "My apologies, Messieurs. I'm afraid I allowed my temper to take control of me. There is another factor to be considered. My companion and I have come here for refuge from some very powerful people. I speak not only for myself but for him as well. Becoming a public figure could put us both in jeopardy, as well as my new wife. I cannot allow that to happen. My contributions must remain anonymous."

"Have you informed the police of this, er, problem?" asked the manager hesitantly.

"The police have no power over this person. He is the Shah-in-Shah of Persia."

"You have enemies in some very lofty places, Monsieur."

Erik turned to the manager, "Might I speak with you in privacy?"

The manager agreed and Erik told him his story. When a white-faced manager emerged from his office he told the others, "I have agreed to Monsieur Boivan's terms. We have a new assistant to the Maestro! And we have a new anonymous consultant to the architect!" He turned to the concertmaster, "You may continue with your rehearsal."

The following summer Erik had a road built leading up to where a crossroads could be constructed, one arm leading to Robért 's house and one arm leading to Erik's. The name of the road was, of course, Chemin de Boivan. And Erik finally got his piano installed in his music room, just in time for the birth of Erik and Christina's first child.

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**Epilogue 2**

After the Swedish contingent had returned to Sweden, Oluf shipped several pairs of skis to Christina and she was finally able to teach Erik the joys of skiing. He even ordered more skis for Nadir, Robért and Valérie and for Tino who would often use them for running errands in the village, despite the effort to climb back up the mountainside with them. Erik suggested some sort of tow line to pull them back to the top and began working on plans with Robért .

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**Epilogue 3**

Word came to Nadir through his contacts that Raoul's unit had been surrounded and captured. Raoul escaped the major part of the fighting but was later found hiding in a harim.

"In a harim?" queried Erik, "How could he be hiding in a harim"?

"Disguised as a woman."

"But the only males allowed in a harim are … "

Suddenly they both turned and noticed Christina who had turned white having overheard them. "No! Raoul!"

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Somewhere in French Algerian Africa, on a military encampment parade ground, a French national officer has been dragged out to a wooden structure, screaming for his father and swearing at his captors as they bind him to the uprights, spread-eagled and rip his pants off of him. "No! No! No! You don't understand! I wasn't after the women. I was just hiding! That's all!"

One who seems to be in charge approaches him and asks him, "You want to stay with the women? Or serve in the slave pits?"

The man looks over to where one of the soldiers is sharpening a long knife. "No! You can't! I am a French officer! I am a vicomte from Paris! This is all a misunderstanding!"

The soldier shoves a dirty rag in his mouth as the soldier with the knife approaches. "You will make such a pretty eunuch!"

Raoul faints dead away.

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**Thank you for reading!**


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